#bad enough head and leg hurty. now THIS?

[daincrediblegg]

Hey guy who started mowing and weed whacking at 8am? Death

#bad enough head and leg hurty. now THIS? #fuck you all #fully inhabiting my grumpy old man spirit rn

[webslingingslasher]

HEY BABE I LOVEEEE YOUR WRITING (like i binge read ts like every other night😭) Could we get an MCU!peter x Stark/Avenger!reader angst? Like reader gets hurt on mission or loses control of their powers or smthn? Luv uuuuu

this wasn't very angsty but it's cute me thinks

Your eyes burned. 

You weren’t sure if it was from tiredness or the tears you were blinking back, it could’ve been a combination of both, but it felt more like tears of rage, maybe that’s why they burned. 

You were hurt. 

You were the one that got hurt and your boyfriend should be there for you but he’s not, he’s too upset at you getting hurt to be there for you while you were hurt, makes sense, right? You had assumed the rule in a relationship was that no matter how upset, if one person got hurt the other would be there. You had assumed wrong. 

So, you were in the medical wing in the tower with a hurt arm, skinned knee and a fat bruised ego. All while blinking back tears, half because you’re scared, half because you want peter but you feel like he’s punishing you with his absence. 

Your dad rushed through the doors to your side, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, you lent into his hold, you wished your boyfriend was here. 

“How pissed is he?” 

Tony has a flashback to five minutes ago in the kitchen, peter’s body paced up and down the side of a counter, his thoughts spinning and spitting out as fast as they came. Mostly rants about how you don’t listen and he can finally sympathize with tony on that subject. 

“He had some opinions.” 

You groan and wince in the fluorescent lighting, you were dead set in your tracks, you swore up and down that you did the right thing but now you start to understand peter’s side, suddenly you’re not so sure you understand your side anymore. 

“Do you think you can convince him to come down here?” 

Your father hummed, “give me a few minutes, honey. I’ll send him down.” He landed one last kiss to your hairline and retreated upstairs, your gut swimming in nerves for when you see him, his words of frustration left with you from the quinjet. 

You held your eyes closed and listened to the buzz of the lights. Your head throbbed and so did your shoulder, the medicine not yet taking hold. Your arm was now tugged into your chest from a sling, and your knee was wrapped in gauze. 

A throat clears, you peek your eyes open. It’s your boyfriend. 

You wanted to be upset but all you felt was relief, suddenly everything felt okay. 

Peter frowns looking at your patched up body, he sports his own graze across his cheek, the rest of him seems okay from his house clothes, his arms clean and legs hidden in sweatpants.

“How you feeling, trouble?” 

 You pout, “hurties.” 

His fingers tickle your good knee, “diagnosis ouchies?” You try to laugh but quickly groan, the movement pounds in your mind. 

“Dislocated shoulder, skinned knee and big bruised ego.” 

“What about the concussion?” 

You raise a finger in agreement, “I keep forgetting about that.” 

It was a hard fall, peter had his back turned and explicitly told you not to do what you did because you’d get hurt, sure enough you still dove and fell flat, by the time he noticed it was too late to shoot a web at you, he had to watch you hit the ground and he wanted to feel bad but annoyance seeped through, he told you not to do it and you never listen, now you’re hurt. 

Peter doesn’t want to berate you when you’re hurt but he just can’t understand why you didn’t listen to him, and it wasn’t about something petty, it was about your safety and you didn’t listen and you got hurt and he hates when you get hurt. 

He lets out a sigh, you know what that means. 

“Baby… why would you do that?” 

You try to shrug, peter places his hand on your wrap to stop you. 

“You’re always the hero, I wanted to try it out.” 

“There’s a reason I usually am, trouble. I can handle getting hurt in a different way, you have glass bones and paper skin.” Peter gives you a small grin, he doesn’t mean harm by his words and you understand what he means. 

“I know but sometimes it feels like you have to make up things for me to do so I feel useful. Like, sometimes I just watch you when we’re on a mission and I feel like I’m the kid kicking rocks in the corner.” 

Peter makes an error sound, “wrong. I can’t shoot lasers or fire, but you can. I need you to open like, every steel door we come across. And you can crack codes and locks quicker than me, I don’t make up tasks for you to do. It might feel useless but I promise it makes me focus on the dangerous stuff better, that way I can protect you while you do the real important stuff.” 

The medicine took effect, your body felt like jelly and peter had a real kissable mouth. 

“You’re handsome, you know that?” 

A small frown pulls at peter’s mouth, the back of his hand rests on your forehead, “concussion hitting?” 

You shake your head and sigh happily, you grab his hand and kiss the back of it, “morphine.” 

“I don’t want you getting hurt, next time may be worse.” 

“I liked it better when you said you were protecting me.” 

He looks offended, “I do.” 

“And that’s adorable. Wanna make out?” 

You pull yourself up on your good elbow, peter bites back a laugh. 

“Promise me you’ll listen to me when I say you’ll get hurt and you’ll get a kiss.” 

A wide grin spreads, “deal.” 

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter x you #mcu peter parker #my writing

[denaliwrites]

Enough of You to Dull the Pain

Cale Erendreich x Fem!Reader

Summary: (18+) You think that maybe exaggerating how you're feeling will lead to more cuddles. Instead... well...

Soundtrack: Twin Skeleton's (Hotel in NYC) by Fall Out Boy

Requests: Open!

Warnings: It's Cale Erendreich and it's smut. Choking / Suffocating / Drowning. CNC. No one dies but at least one person in this fic is getting a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Cale," you whimper, arms around your middle and clutching in pain. "Cale, it hurts so bad."

"What does, bunny?" he asks, holding an arm out for you to join him at his desk. You painfully pad into his embrace, and he carefully pulls you into his lap, all without once sparing you a glance.

"My everything," you say softly, dropping your head onto his shoulder with a pout.

He finally looks down to you, gaze sympathetic. "Did you eat something?" he asks. When you nod, he continues, "maybe it was bad."

"Maybe," you whimper, nuzzling closer. "I don't feel sick, though... just... hurty."

"Hurty, huh?" You don't miss the hint of amusement in his voice. "Are you on your period?" As you shake your head, you hear a soft tsk. Then his arms are around you, and he's easily picking you up. All you offer him by way of protest is a tiny sound of surprise.

He carries you into the bathroom and sets you down on the edge of the tub. "This'll help," he tells you as he runs the water. A gentle kiss is placed on your forehead, and then he's pulling away. You watch as he walks over to the cabinet, pulling out all his home spa goods. Your favorite face mask, shampoo and conditioner, oils, anything and everything.

He pools everything beside you, then looks up and sets about examining you. You whimper at his touch, which immediately softens. He checks your eyes, your forehead, your gums. It's a little strange, how used to this you are, but you don't complain as he continues.

Soon, your top is off, along with your bra, and he's tenderly checking your breasts. You release a low whine as his thumb brushes over your nipple, and he shoots you a knowing smirk before he gently kisses the bud and moves on.

Next, his fingers dig into your abdomen. It's nothing any doctor wouldn't do. Yet, at the barest touch, you all but cry out, hands darting out to clutch at his wrist in an attempt to stop him.

"Oh, there it is," he says softly. He apologizes by pulling you close and planting a kiss to your temple. You sink into his touch, unwilling to part from him even as he shifts to turn the water off.

Truth be told, while you are in quite a bit of pain, it's not really as bad as you're letting on. Honestly, you just want him to hold you. But when he's working, it's hard to get him to pay much attention to you.

You weren't expecting the bath, or for him to be quite this attentive. But you'll take it. Why wouldn't you? Any attention from Cale is good attention.

He's testing the water when you pull away from him, and as he does he hums in satisfaction. "That should be perfect for you, bunny."

He pulls away from you, only to pull you up to a stand. The stress on your stomach makes you whimper, but his kiss quickly chases it away. Slowly, carefully, he helps you out of your bottom layers, before he picks you up again and eases you gently into the water.

It's so hot it practically feels like it's melting you, and the moan you release isn't quite as innocent as you'd maybe have hoped -- if you were paying any attention.

You look up to Cale, and don't fail to notice the smug look he's wearing. "Oh, shut up," you whimper. He only laughs in response.

Another thing you don't fail to notice is the way his sleeves are now soaked from lowering you into the water. You think he'll be angry, but when he looks down he simply rolls his sleeves up with a shrug.

"Babe," you say softly, and his eyes are suddenly on you. "Can you massage my legs?"

"Oh, your legs are hurting now?" he asks, a playfully suspicious look in his eyes.

"Well... no... but I'd still feel better..."

He sighs for effect before he grabs the massage oil and sits down on the other side of the tub. He dabs some of the oil in his palm, closes the bottle, and puts it off to the side, then starts rubbing his hands together to warm the oil up. You watch his each and every movement, enraptured by him.

There's barely a moment for him to motion for your leg. You see his hand flex, and immediately profer the limb, draping your right leg over his lap. If he's upset about the way his trousers are now soaked, he makes no mention of it. Instead, he starts working his hands into your calf muscles, digging deep to reach the muscles that need the most attention.

He finishes with a kiss to the inside of your ankle. You withdraw your right leg and offer your left in its place. He repeats the motions, and ends that leg off with the same gesture.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks as he looks you over.

Forgetting your cover in your relaxed state, you moan, "just perfect."

You can tell by the way his eyes sharpen that you've made a mistake. Despite the nearly scalding water surrounding you, a chill dances down your spine as he drops down, hands clutching the lip of the tub on either side as he hovers over you, effectively trapping you in the water.

"I'm sorry," he starts, a dramatic flair of disbelief in his voice, "were you pretending to be sick so I'd pamper you?"

"Wh-what," you gasp, "no! No, of course not! I... I just kind of... maybe exaggerated... just a little, though, I swear!"

The way he looks at you is downright murderous, and there's no relief as he pulls back, nor as he gets up. And there's none when he starts slowly, tauntingly stripping his clothes off.

You watch in horror and fascination as he makes a show of it, his fingers lingering as he undoes each button of his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt, as he pulls down his fly. Your mouth is dry in fear, and yet you try to swallow thickly in anticipation.

He loses articles of clothing as he makes his way back to the tub, fully nude by the time he clambers in on top of you. All you can think for a moment is how fortunate it is that his tub is huge, so that you both fit easily.

All thoughts are chased away when his hand is suddenly on your throat and your head is forced back into the water.

You know you shouldn't scream, that it'll just waste air. But the sound tears out of you anyway, sending a plume of bubbles up to the surface. Even as your hands claw desperately at Cale's forearm, your hips give a weak thrust as a thrill shoots down to your cunt.

He holds you under just until the edge of too long. And then you're yanked back up, and his hold loosens just enough for you to cough and wheeze air back into your aching lungs.

"C-Cale--"

You're back under again, and this time the jolt between your legs is powerful enough to make you gasp.

You're wracked with coughs, and you don't realize you're not in the water anymore until Cale's mouth is crushed to yours. You think maybe he's giving you mouth-to-mouth, but eventually even your panicked brain knows that he's just roughly kissing you as your body dispels the water on its own.

He shifts so that he's poised above you, a predator ready to claim his kill.

"Cale?" you whimper, but he doesn't respond. "Cale--"

With a snap of his hips, his cock is thrust inside you. Keening, tears form in your eyes and your nails dig deep into his arm, still locked on your throat.

"Cale," you wheeze, desperately.

"Deep breath," he warns, and you barely have enough time to obey before he plunges you back into the water. He sinks his cock deeper at the same time, and you struggle not to cry out.

Each of his thrusts is brutally sharp, causing burning pain inside and dull, bruising pain outside. But all you can do is hold your breath and hope you can hold out -- hell, your life literally depends on it.

It doesn't take much for you to realize, even as your vision starts to darken around the edges and your mind gets hazy, that this isn't sex for him so much as Cale using you as a masturbatory aid.

Not that you mind -- you'd be perfectly wet for him, if not for the water.

And, even as the darkness closes in and you find it harder to think, you can feel pleasure growing. It's tightening in the pit of your stomach, heating you up in a way the water surrounding you never could.

Your mind, too fuzzy to focus on much of anything, wonders idly if Cale is talking to you from above the water, or if he really is just using you.

The thought, fleeting as it is, has you bucking your hips in wanton need. Cale's hand tightens around your throat, and now you're not sure if you're about to die by suffocation or drowning.

The hand on your throat presses harder down, and your ever-drifting mind connects it with his cock twitching inside you, followed by a surge of warmth spilling into your cunt.

With him finishing, you finally reach the end of your limits. Your body thrashes weakly in a desperate bid to get to air, to breathe, to live. As it does, you feel a hand at your pussy, two fingers sinking in to your cunt while the thumb plays at your clit.

You realize you're going to die, but at least Cale is sending you out with one last orgasm.

Between the air deprivation making you deliriously ecstatic, even as your body twitches in a last-ditch effort to breathe, and the hand in your cunt rocking your body with pleasure, it doesn't take long for you to reach that peak.

Your whole body goes into a rigid arch, thighs and cunt working together to crush the hand driving you to orgasm. And you can't help it, can't control it. With the last molecule of air left in your lungs, you scream.

And then you take a desperate breath in, and everything goes dark.

When you wake up, everything is sore. Your chest, your throat, your cunt. It takes you a few minutes to work through the haze, to remember why you hurt everywhere.

The next thing you take stock of is the present. You're swaddled in enough warm blankets to supply an army, and you've been laid in Cale's bed. You wonder if he's with you, until you feel something tighten around your waist and lips press to your cheek.

"You had me worried there for a second," he whispers.

You let out a breezy laugh. "You? Worried?"

"You didn't take to CPR right away," he informs you.

"Oh."

He continues, "and you've been out all day."

"Oh," you say again.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asks, as if your very near death hadn't just been the topic of conversation.

"I... yeah," you reply. You realize then that you are hungry, anyway.

"You should start with something easy. I'll make you some soup."

He withdraws and gets up, laying another kiss to your cheek as he passes.

When he gets back, you've already fallen back asleep. Your breathing is still labored and raspy. There's a twinge of guilt in his heart when he hears it. Not nearly as big or devastating as the one he felt when he thought he'd killed you, but still much more than he's used to.

He sighs, placing the soup on the nightstand beside you. Carefully, he slips into his place behind you, pulling you gently closer and holding you protectively while he waits for you to wake up again.

#cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfiction #cale erendreich fic #cale erendreich fanfiction #david tennant #denali strikes again #this is the crackfic to end all crackfics

[tassodelmiele]

Sit

Disclaimer: NSFW everything. And MalexMale.

PricexGaz.

If ya don't like none of that, skip it.

If you do like, enjoy~

..................................................................................

<Sit»

He did.

Evening dim lights sipped through the blackout blinds vent, giving the room just a blushed ray of sunset that catched Kyle's deep dark irids in a brush of golden foil.

Price's hands tightened around that bunch of documents he was supposed to look at before the next day. A low grumble came out with his breath while his eyes were trying not to focus on how the other man had slightly spreaded his legs on the chair, and his brain was trying to avoid how fast his Sergeant had followed his voice.

Sit was nothing but a simple word, almost an invitation. 

Amazing how Gaz was able to collect every inch of Price's fones as strict, delightful orders.

<Good»

It slipped out of his mouth, and his side eyes nearly catched a tiny, shivering throb in the Sergeant's tights.

Cap. breathed in a harsh, warm sighed sound; fingers tapped on the desk, filling the silence as dense as a chocolate pudding. Thinking about something sweet did worse: the only sweet treat he would like to taste was sitting behind him, just a few steps away from his famished mouth.

<What's your excuse?>

Kyle frowned, with that stupidly cute smile that was permanently engraved on his face's masterpiece. 

<That shit of paperwork you should have done by now. Seems like it's not on my desk yet». Price's mutter dig from the deepest side of his Captain-at-work brain part. Fingers clenched around that random document he was pretending to find way more interesting than it was, nearly teared it apart as Gaz mumbled a soft:

<My bad», before pushing himself up. 

His steps filled the space toward the desk, his body leant on the wooden surface so gracefully, just enough to wag slightly his slutty ass. He smiled so proudly and sugary at his Captain's back.

<Wonder how I could apologize»

Price's spine got through a long, deep shiver; his muscles arched, something started to itch between his tights, climbing up his guts and being exhaled as a harsh growl: 

<Looks like my desk still needs something on it>

Gaz wasted no time.

He hurtied just a little in crossing the table, shivering at a: <don't rush it» warning. Sergeant reached Price, ass bounced on the desk's corner and breath shutted. Cap. muttered:

<On your knees»

Dear god, how good his pretty eyes were as he followed every word without a breath, with that pretty body of him lowered down just the right amount to make Kyle lift his head to reach his Captain's figure.

As delightful as a fucking piece of cake: watery eyes were the cherries, slightly wet and swallen lips were the whipped cream, and John just wanted to lick them off, bite into the soft part and eat them whole. 

He swallowed arousal and butterflies, growling a low moany breath. 

<So ready to take orders, mh? Such a good…» one hand lowered on Kyle's cheek, pinching it slightly «…soldier I'v got here». 

Cap.'s thumb pressed on the soft lower lip, digit pushed till Gaz puckered his mouth just enough to kiss the finger, putting a cute, wet sound on it. 

Price grabbed his chin in his hand, thumb still at his place. 

<Open wide»

And Gaz did it with a grunt, melting the thumb in a hot blow, letting it slide inside and push down his tongue till little saliva drools began to moist the mouth, dripping down on the lower lip. 

<Look at it…i could stuff you with my dick already»

John smiled, chuckling proudly at the sight. His finger traced little circles on the tongue, sliding down a bit, up, and then down again, holding Kyle's chin in his hand till he decided that the drooling mess of his mouth needed a little more. 

He let his face go, and instantly replaced the thumb with two fingers, filling Kyle's needy mouth, stuffing it to the limit of his throat, feeling he was gagging and throbbing on his digits. 

<Breath slowly. Don't swallow». Price moved inside his mouth, stirring the mess of saliva. <Let it out, lemme see how good you are»

Fingers slid in, massaging the Sergeant's tongue root till it clenched and Kyle's voice started to whimper cute little sounds. 

Price moved away his hands, pinching the tip of the tongue and pulling out that soaked muscle, making Gaz's watery eyes stare up and his mouth full open drooling on the floor. 

The bulge under John's uniform started to hurt, trapped in the clothes while it just pulsed to be fucked in that pretty, warm hole. 

Captain groaned deeply, pulling his good soldier by the tongue to finally make his pretty aroused face collide with his still dressed up cock. 

<Pull it out»

Kyle's hand moved slowly, calculating every second from the unfastened belt, to the zip and the throbbing swell under the boxer, giving it little kisses, biting it softly and gently over the cloth, making Price's moaned grunts fill the office. He pressed one hand behind the Sergeant's head, pulling him by the hair to force him closer, muttering: <eat it babe, don't make me wait»

And Kyle's hands were already on the boxer's elastic band, lowering it as if he was uncovering a treasure, letting the swollen dick bounce on his face in a wet, sticky touch. 

He raised a little on his knees to catch the red tip in his mouth, swallowing it all at once. 

Price's grip got tighter on his dear good Sergeant, pulling him closer, letting his throat squeeze around him as he breathed hot air and stiffened every inch of muscle. 

<Don't rush it»

His voice was almost a low groan at this point. He managed to find the chair, pulling it toward him and sitting without his dick leaving his sweet shelter. Gaz adjusted between his legs, hands pressed on his Cap.'s tights as he ate him slowly, never totally releasing that throbbing bulge, going down, sucking the base with tongue stuck out just to come up and stop on the tip, blowing hot hair on the little drop of pre-cum before drinking it like the sweetest milk. 

A light pull on his hair made him stop. He let the treat out of his mouth with a last suction, feeling it tremble on his tongue. 

<Up, love»

Gaz stood without asking, with swollen, red lips almost dripping, groaning just a bit 'cause he really, really wanted to drink every drop of his Captain. Price pushed him toward the desk instead, moving also himself and the chair. He took just a few seconds to collect some steady breaths, before groaning kindly: <pants down», and just stared at Gaz releasing his own needy body up to the tights, hissing a cute moan as the cloth robbed on his pulsing dick. 

John smiled: no underwear. That cute bastard did know what would have happened in the office.

He took his time to look at the sweet exhibition of his Sergeant clinging on the desk, eyes wet and shiny lips, chin crossed in little drools of pleasure and red so perfectly painted on his bronze cheeks, tights barely collected by the half-lowered trousers and exposed full length almost breathing by itself. 

A delightful, caramelized dessert bubbling and pulsing, ready to come out of the oven. 

And John knew just the right place to plate him. 

He spread his legs a little more on the chair. 

<Sit. On me, cute»

Gaz squeezed a moan in his lungs and his mouth trembled in a silent, pleased motion. He just turned his ass, giving his Captain that nice view, and he felt a hard grasp pulling him by the livery. He ended up crushing on the hard bulge, slicking on it. Price's hips lifted instinctively, pushing themselves closer, so eager to feel more. He made Kyle lift his butt just a bit, making just enough space for him to took his own dick and let it slide inside the cute red hole, filling it packed and growling breaths at the soft butcheeks bounched on his tights while he was stuffing that beautiful body so well it was like someone had made it just for him to come. 

His hands pushed delicately on Kyle's belly, feelling him throbbing as little whimpers started to bounce on the walls. John fixed his Sergeant on his lap, letting him get used to the growing pleasure while muttering: <good boy» in his ears. He pressed little kisses on his, unluckily, clothed back, brushing his beard against the shirt. 

<Good, love, so good for me, right?>

He moved slightly, imperceptibly, lifting his hips to thrust a little deeper inside, and Gaz moaned so fucking good that Price wished to have a mirror on the opposite wall just to look at his flustered expression. 

<Move around babe, get comfortable, mh? Lemme see how much you like it»

Tights squeezed on Price's body as the Sergeant steadied himself with his hands on the chair's armrest. Then, his butt started to move around in little circles, bouncing a little, shrinking inside at every hit on the right spot; every move was a soft cried moan, every tremble a heavy breath and a burst of pleasure right in the guts. 

<Cling to me, love, lemme stuff your pretty hole and eat ma milk, would ya?>

And the answer to the muttered question was an ecstatic nod, a pleased sound groaned wet and low, played along with the sticky symphony of that perfect collision. 

Then Price's fingers went to softly grab Kyle's needy cock, gripping it just strong enough to make its owner whimper. 

<Ya need to fix the missing paperwork»

And he started to stroke, up and down the full length, stimulating the tip with his thumb at every deeper push in Kyle's throbbing hole while he moaned so messily on his Captain's lap, gulping hot hair and squirming whines at every push, at every rub. 

He grew harder in John's hand, pulsing, shaking, letting out a little load of pre-cum the Captain collected just to spread it better on the tip of the so cute dick he was enjoying to edge, holding the base for few seconds from time to time just to feel Kyle's hole twitching and aching, squeezed around him till the man groaned so needy: <please-!>

Then Price's strokes became faster, harder, his hips lifted again from the chair in sudden moves at a stronger pace, feeding his famish in that wet, delicious hole. 

<Gonna fill ma desk, 'k?>

John' s forehead crushed on Kyle's back as it became more difficult to move so stiffed on the chair;  so he just took a moment to focus on his good Sergeant, taking care of his needs while his body was twitching so hard over him. Moans stole breath's place as the strokes catched Kyle better, squeezing him harder while his thighs threatened to tear the trousers apart. 

Price stopped just when he literally felt Gaz freezing on his lap, every muscle tensed and lungs in time out. With just one last stroke he released everything on the desk, hitting perfectly the wooden surface in a wet, sticky mess, letting out all Kyle'had got with trembled moans and shivering legs. 

He could just hear a muffled, so sweet: <good boy», before Price grabbed him by the hips, pushing him on the desk to make his chest collide on the table, dick still inside and hand pressed on the Sergeant's waist. 

Then the Captain pushed himself completely in, filling the hole with every inch of pulsing cock. 

<That's how I like you». Moves grew faster, digging in Kyle's ass with a bursting pleasure. <Stuffed with me, love, 's this what i wanna see»

Words become mumbled, mixed with cried moans and whimpered mutters choked on the desk, played along with ritmical sticky, lovely echoes bounced on the buttcheeks as Price's dick rushed its way, eager to fill up that warm hole. 

Edge is reached in a couple more thrusts, streamed hot and fully inside Kyle's body, every inch of his Captain's dick being squeezed and released in a white, warm bubbling drink that none of them was about to waist. 

John got out slowly; fingers ran to the stretched ass to collect some semen, pushing it inside again. He lifted the trousers up Kyle's tights, securing his precious milk. Then he sit heavily again, groaning: <here, love»

And Gaz knew exactly how to turn, kneel down between his Cap.'s leg again and put his still fuzzy head on the dick he loves the most, cleaning every inch of it in little licks, putting cute kisses on the tip just to make sure to collect every drop his ass didn't swallow. 

Price's last breath is a growl of release and tiredness. Little blue eyes gaze at Kyle's satisfacted face.

<So, 'bout that paperwork…»

..................................................................................

I'm so sorry, i've just though about Price's low voice and Kyle's goddamn shiny eyes for a week and my brain just melted.

Maybe that's why i love Price: i could have finally found the definitive daddy/dom figure.

I know I'm gonna do it also with Ghost and Soap, i just know it.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod #fanfiction #writer on tumblr #male x male #john price #kyle gaz garrick #price x gaz #coddammit #this time i'll try not to write long ass hashtag #even if it's funny

[pbandjesse]

Today was a good day. It was a very busy day. But it was very good still.

James wasn't doing great today. They were in pain for a lot of it. They still made me a bagel for breakfast. And I got washed and dressed and soon we were heading to work.

The car was all icy when we left. I realized James didn't put my lunch in my bag and I was a little sad about that. But it was whatever. I just wanted to go to work.

And it was a fun and busy day like I said. We werent sure what the turn out would be but it would end up being one of the busiest days I've been there for in a long time. Almost 150 people! It was awesome.

We did my first tour at 930. And it was fun. I had spent some time sewing before that. And I would spend any free time between tours cutting and sewing. I finished all the cut out bears I had and made three more totes! I did not get to finish the straps but I did get to talk to people about sewing all day and that was really cool.

My tours were great though. They would start small and gather more people throughout the hour. There was a very smiley man on my tour who was very sweet. And I had a great time.

I took a few minutes to catchy breath and get some water before my next tour. Aubrey and Kristen were both there today to do some group tours. And so I made sure it get out of their ways. Andy second tour started without issue.

I would give three full tours today. My last one had a family with some teens and they had lots of questions. They also had their grandfather and he cried in the garment loft! I felt so bad but my story really touched him and that was encouraging. I also wanted to give him a hug but his granddaughter comforted him and that was good enough.

I got applause at the end of my last tour and that felt great. Then they had more questions that I could only sort of answer. I am trying to spend more time looking into things I don't know. Like I can usually come up with an answer using my approximate knowledge. But I am making notes to expand on my tour and I think it's fun. I love learning. I love sharing things with others! It's great. I hate when I find out I was wrong about something. Like today I misunderstood something someone asked me and now that I understand what they meant I for sure gave them the wrong answer. I am sorry!!

I did get a lot of praise after. I went to hang out in the garment loft to work on sewing my straps and chatting with people and had a few people from my tour come and tell me how much they liked it and that was very gradifying. I also had a really lovely conversation with someone about teaching yourself hand skills and I may have convinced them to come to my workshop. I hope I did!! I hope lots of people come to my workshop.

At the end of the day I was in the print shop showing some kids and their parents how the printing presses worked. And then Stanley started turning the lights off on us. So I walked them to the front.

I got my stuff and went to sit with James while they finished their tasks for the day. And very soon we were in our way home.

Charlie got exposed to COVID so the universe is not letting us hang out. Which is fine. It will make them moving to New Mexico less upsetting. Because it's like nothing changed and when they come back to visit their family they can maybe come say hi to me too.

When we got back here I was really tired and James was very sore.

I took my knitting to bed and did the last two days. I had a snack and chilled with Sweetp. I watched tiktoks. James did some stuff in the other room, played video games. Eventually they went for a little walk.

I have mostly been chilling in bed. I took my second round of chemo pills. 6 this time! It's super weird. I have been tracking anything that I think could be a symptom. And just my general mood. I sort of deteriorated through the night but mostly I am just tired.

James heated up leftovers for me for dinner. And I would take a bubble bath. My legs were very itchy and hurty so the water was nice. And now we are in bed. I just painted my toes and fed the aquatics. And we are getting ready to sleep.

I am going to try to do a ton of cleaning tomorrow. I really hope I have the energy because I really want to do it and make the whole place for nice. So wish me luck.

Sleep well everyone. Wash your hands! Be safe!

[zoeykallus]

Tech Oneshot – Oblivious

Tech x GN!Reader Oneshot

Warning: Angsty/Hurty/Fluffy/ Oblivious Tech / Nervous Tech

______________

Author's Comment:

This guy lives rent-free in my head, and so there are a thousand scenarios in which he appears. This is one of them. Tech doesn't get the reader's hints until his brothers help him. But even then, his conclusion is flawed.

______________

Oblivious

You've been traveling with the Bad Batch for a while now. Actually, it was more pleasant than you expected, the guys were decent. But one thing frustrated you a lot by this time. You had fallen head over heels for the pilot, the genius, Tech. The frustrating thing was that he didn't understand any of your innuendos, he took everything way too literally and apparently there was no room for innuendo in his understanding because he overlooked every attempt. By now everyone knew what was going on except him. If there had been potted plants on the Marauder, even they would have known what was going on before Tech did.

What you didn't know, however, was that his brothers had taken him aside and informed him, quite directly and without any subtlety. The next time you were alone with him and came into the cockpit where he was packing up his tools, he turned when he heard your footsteps. He towered over you by quite a bit, his slender figure tucked into his gear was smeared with machine oil on some parts.

"Y/N, good to have you here. I think we should talk," he said, pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose with the index finger of his right hand.

Surprised, you looked at him, but nodded and said, "Okay, sure, I'm all ears."

Tech thought for a moment before saying, "Hunter and Echo approached me about a topic that was beyond my understanding"

You frowned thoughtfully and gave a soft "aha", of your own.

"Well, if I understood correctly" he continued, looking at you scrutinizingly "Then you harbor certain feelings for my person. Is that correct?"

Your heart suddenly leapt into your throat and seemed to occupy your vocal cords, for at first little more than a nervous croak came from your mouth.

His big golden brown eyes looked at you uncertainly.

"Y/N?"

"Um, yeah, yeah right," you finally said after clearing your throat, even though you had thought for a moment about lying and evading the situation.

He blinked and seemed to be thinking about his next words, and something about his expression made your insides want to tighten and knot.

"The thing is, I can't return those feelings," he finally spoke softly.

Your throat became incredibly tight, your legs became unspeakably heavy, and you wished you had lied to escape the situation.

You just looked at him silently, not knowing what to say.

"It wouldn't be appropriate for us to be a couple. I wasn't made to be in a relationship and our lives don't leave much room for-"

"It's okay" you interrupted him "You don't have to explain yourself or make excuses. I get it."

You smiled, but even though Tech had his problems with interpersonal issues, he could see that your smile didn't reach your eyes.

"I'm not looking for excuses, Y/N I'm just trying to-"

"It's okay. I'll back off. I have other things to do anyway."

You didn't, and you both knew it.

"Like what? "he asked innocently.

"Something private, that's my business," you grumbled, annoyed that you didn't have a better excuse, and hurried out of the cockpit.

You sat by the river not too far from the Marauder, but far enough to be out of sight and have your peace for the time being. For a while, you fought the urge to cry, but eventually, a few tears flowed anyway, which you angrily wiped away.

You were angry, at yourself and also at the others who had more or less ratted you out to Tech. But actually you knew that they had only wanted to help. That had backfired now, though.

You cursed inside that you felt so small and lonely, now that you knew he didn't return your feelings. How were you supposed to work with him or travel with the guys now? It would just be weird to stay, you thought sadly, and thought about how best to say goodbye to the boys and go your way again.

When Hunter entered the cockpit, he found a Tech who appeared to be a bit off, indecisively turning his datapad in his hands.

"What's the matter with you? You seem spaced out."

Tech looked up and said, "I was talking to Y/N because of the feelings we were talking about"

Hunter raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh. Seems to me the response was less than good, or why are you sitting here alone?"

"I told Y/N that I can't return the feelings".

Hunter looked at him incredulously.

"Why the hell would you do something like that? You told me and Echo that you felt the same way about Y/N".

Tech nodded.

"Well, I do. But it's not advisable to give in to that, not with the way we live. Besides, I have no experience and probably wouldn't be the right partner"

Hunter sighed and knelt down to Tech, who was sitting on the floor of the cockpit.

"Tech" he began "We clones often live very short lives, experience is hard to come by, hardly any of us do. Very few of us are as lucky to have someone take an interest in us as Y/N takes an interest in you. That's special and you shouldn't let that pass you by, that would be the real mistake."

Tech blinked.

"What if I can't make Y/N happy?"

"You think breaking Y/N's heart is better?"

Again he blinked.

"I would never break Y/N's heart!" he said, horrified.

Hunter grabbed his brother's shoulders and said, "You did today, though, by saying you couldn't return the feelings. Y/N certainly didn't take that the way you meant it, no one would have taken it that way, not with those words."

Unhappy, Tech asked, "What am I supposed to do now?"

Hunter shrugged his shoulders and said, "In the end, that's your decision, but if you want my opinion, I'd say go to Y/N, tell the truth about your feelings, the rest will follow. You'll see."

When you heard footsteps, you hastily wiped the tears from your face and fervently hoped that your eyes were not red.

You heard Tech's voice ask, "May I join you?"

You answered without looking at him, "I'd rather be alone."

"Please" he said softly, sounding a little nervous "I want to talk to you"

"What if I don't want to talk to you?" you asked defiantly.

Tech sighed softly and sat down next to you anyway before saying "You don't really mean that".

It felt strange to sit next to him, you longed to just lean against him, wrap your arms around him. But of course you did nothing of the sort.

"What do you want?" you asked instead, a little more harshly than you'd planned.

"To apologize" he said softly "I gave the wrong impression earlier".

You frowned. You weren't quite sure what he was getting at.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand," you admitted.

Tech cautiously moved a little closer and confusion spread through your mind. Somehow, it all didn't quite fit together.

"I've had feelings for you for a long time, just like you have for me," he finally blurted out.

Slowly you turned your head to look at him. He shyly avoided your gaze and you could see his ears turning red.

"Then why did you say earlier that you couldn't return my feelings?" you wanted to know.

He explained: "I meant that I shouldn't, because I thought that... I thought I wasn't cut out for it. I don't have any experience as far as that goes, and I thought-"

You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, which instantly silenced him.

You heard a soft "Oh" pass his lips before he sought your gaze.

Your hand went to the back of his neck as his face came closer, you both closed your eyes and your lips finally touched. You heard him sigh softly and smiled into the kiss. Your other hand went into his hair, he opened his lips slightly, letting out a soft gasp as your fingers gently caressed the skin of his head and stroked through his hair.

You seized the moment and gently slipped your tongue into his mouth. He moaned into the kiss as your tongues touched. His hands automatically grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. He shivered under your hand in his hair and the kiss you shared. When you broke away from the kiss, he looked at you through half-closed lids.

"My heart is beating very fast," he said softly.

You smiled.

"Mine too"

@chxpsi

@mybigfatspoonielife

@clone-whore-99

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@nunanuggets

@brynhildrmimi

#tech x y/n #star wars #the bad batch #clonelove #clone force 99 #tbb #sw tbb #clone trooper tech #bad batch tech #tbb tech #tech #clone trooper tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tech bad batch #tech tbb #tech the bad batch #tech tuesday #tech x reader #tech x you #the bad batch tech #tech oneshot #tech fluff #tech imagine #bad batch #bad batch x reader #star wars bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars: the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch x reader

[littlepadika]

Hi Pad’ika! I was wondering if you could write something with a little who gets an injury while they’re outdoors with their daddy (maybe going on a hike with Frankie or Din, or just following Javi or Whisky around their ranch?) They wanna be big and strong and just walk it off because daddy didn’t see it happen, but the second they catch up to daddy and he asks why they were dawdling, they’re instantly in littlespace and bursting into tears because owwwwie 😖

aww bb this had me so little 🥺 !!! I already picked on Din but me still finking of him. He doesn't mean to be inattentive or a meanie as you'll see. He's a good daddy! 🥰

Warnings: DDLG, fem little, injury then comfort

Din was excited to show you the seeing rock. You were dawdling, looking at every flower and bug you passed. As he rounded the bed out of sight he didn't see you fall forward and scrape your hand on the rocky path. You instantly felt the burn on your hands and saw the little blood on the scrape. You also hurt your knee but you didn't see a scrape. Tears stung your eyes and you fought the urge to cry for help. When daddy din got hurt he didn't cry and you wanted to prove you were a big girl who didn't have to stay on the ship.

"Ad'ika?" you heard Din call for you.

"C-coming." You sniffled, taking a couple of deep breaths. You hurried to catch up, your knee hurting more.

Din was standing at the next switch in the trail with his hands on his hips.

"What were you doing? I told you to always stay in my sights."

"Sorry." You grumbled, more tears flooding your eyes. You looked down so he wouldn't see.

"What do you have?" Din asked, suspicious by your hands behind your back.

"Nothing." You huff, walking past him as fast as you could.

"Hey..." He stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. He noticed your strange limp. "Don't walk away from me."

You turn and you try to meet his visor and hold your head high.

"What happened?" Din's voice hardened so you knew you had to respond. Your lip wobbled as you showed him your hands. "Oh..."

"I sorry i didn't mean to fall, daddy." You whimpered as the scratches continued to sting. You felt yourself getting more little.

"It's okay." Din cradled your hands in his looking at the injury more closely. "I can clean this up."

"No it's okay." You sniffled, pulling your hands away. "we can keep going."

"Let me take care of you, little one." Din murmured and that's all it took for you to break. You burst into tears, leaning into his arms.

"Hurtie!" You sobbed.

"Why didn't you tell me right away, pretty girl?" He cupped your cheek. He felt terrible. Had he caused this by making you hurry up? He'd never do it again!

"I jus wanted to be stwong like you, daddy!" You cry harder because you failed to be strong.

"Hey hey..." Din guided you over to a large rock that he could sit on and pulled you into his lap. "Shhh shh." You buried your nose into his cowl for comfort.

"Look! I have..." Din dug through the pouch on his waist and pulled out a small stuffie bantha. You have a big one in the ship but he always carries a 'travel sized' one. "There. Now let's clean this up" He set it on your lap because your hands were still hurting. He used a waterbottle to clean off the wounds even though you hissed at the pain. "It's okay it's almost over." then he put some pain relief ointment and pink star bandaids over it. Those were expensive but he was so glad he got them.

"Does anything else hurt?"

"My knee." You admitted pointing at it but refusing to look at it.

"Hmm..." Din lifted your pant leg to see it. "Looks like a bruise."

"Can daddy kiss better?" You asked, blinking up at him. You always did that for him.

Din hesitated, but decided it may be possible.

"Close your eyes." He requested gently. You quickly obeyed and you felt him lift his helmet up just enough to lean down and kiss your knee then gently kiss each palm. You gasped at the sensation of his warm lips and stubble. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

"Good girl, thank you." Din cooed once the helmet was back down. "I think I should carry you the rest of the way because of your knee."

"But I wanted to be big." You lamented hugging your stuffie closer.

"You did such a good job getting this far. I'm so proud of you. Let me get you that last bit of the way, okay?"

"Mkay." You agree, happy to give your knee a break.

~~~~~~~~~

Littlespace taglist: @lafresamilk @dobbyjen @mamacitapascal @prettypedros, @marstheplanet @takochansugoi @oceanablue @iwishtobeastorm @dincrypt, @bac-1, @spacenerdpascal, @cranberrypills @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp @djarinsimp @mylittlesenaar @bbybunbun @phnyx @xwalltoast @dreadwolfxoxo @xwalltoast @mswarriorbabe80 @bearcina @lokigirlszendaya @pedroslilbitch @star-wars-fan-2005 @din-jarhead @hillgoth @m4ngoj3lly @crabbae @im-a-mcsimp-for-mchotties @girlofchaos @joelsflannel @xoxabs88xox

#ask padika #anon #daddy!din #din x reader #little!reader

[cinnamonest]

Speaking of though. I've brought this up before but boys getting all hurty and bitter because darling has been talking positively about other people is so cute yet so obnoxious because I swear none of these bastards can healthily process and express their feelings like. I have thoughts on a few

Kaeya is soooo passive aggressive. Just mumbling things under his breath. He gets super petulant about it even, it's kinda uncharacteristic of him really, but when he gets bitter enough he can be really childish about expressing it. Stays just close enough for you to see him but pulls super petty shit like standing up and walking out of a room as soon as you come in. It's super quiet and that's how you know something's up since he normally can't shut up. Like he wants you to bring it up, he's not gonna initiate the conversation, because he wants the reassurance that you care about him being upset and if he doesn't get that he gets progressively more subtly passive aggressive until you bring it up and then finally the dam breaks and puts on the arrogant narcissist demeanor, lectures you about how your behaviors and actions recently have been inconsiderate and selfish and he's so gracious to put up with it. Turns everything back into being your fault. Folds his arms and kinda shifts his weight onto one foot, irritated stance, talks over you. Can be placated and somewhat soothed with enthusiastically initiating apology sex, but he stays mad a while, rolls over away from you in hopes you'll go back to apologizing again. He just really likes hearing you apologize. He's a sensitive, hurty boi but too insecure to be honest with you, and needs the ego boost.

Childe's similar but more direct and less gaslight-y. Also passive aggressive and quiet but less in a pouty way and more in a smiley way. Smiles really big all the time, very obviously forced. He's a bit talkative. "So how was your day?" But it's immediately obvious he's pissed off just from his tone, a fake sweetness that clearly says you need to apologize for something. Also can be placated with sex. But thankfully he's more likely to actually stop being mad afterwards. If it was genuinely anger, he's more likely to just get over it and return to his normal self, but if the pouting was triggered by having his feelings hurt he's more likely to get a bit vulnerable/open with you and grumble a confession that you more or less hurt his feelings, resting his face against your shoulders or chest, in hopes you'll reassure him.

Xiao. Supreme pouty. You take a bit longer to realize something's wrong because he's normally quiet anyway, but the biggest indicator is the space between you. He's normally trying to get awkwardly touchy, even though flustered about it, he just loves touch too much, likes to just be in your presence and watch you, but now he's in another room. Putting space between you. Sitting cross legged on the floor in a corner, arms crossed, just very very very ">:(" and turns his head the other way when you try to look at him. Embodies "no talk me I angy." Slow to admit he's mad even if you bring it up, keeps saying "nothing" and going quiet again. He might admit to being mad but just not tell you why. In the end he can hold the anger for a few days even before it just settles into being hurt and he comes crawling back to you, still not vocalizing his feelings, but being all touchy and pulling you into his lap and hugging and hoping you'll hug back to make him feel reassured. He's the least likely to actually admit why he's upset in the end, but as long as darling gives him kisses and cuddles and sweet words and all those other things he needs, he can be reassured with just that.

Xingqiu is kinda similar to Kaeya/Childe but even more obvious. Says passive aggressive stuff out loud rather than mumbling it. He still wants you to be the one to acknowledge it, but will blatantly push you to do so, he's impatient and less mature. He also won't tell you what it is, not because he's embarrassed, but because he wants you to figure out what you did wrong, since you *should* know, he thinks. Will also follow you around, stays pouty a long time. Difficult to placate, you have to more or less wait for him to get over it on his own, but apologies and affection will speed up the process. He might finally admit to being hurt, but will be very snobby and grumpy about it, not wanting to appear vulnerable.

At least you can finally get transparency out of Razor though. It's such a breath of fresh air from the others. Will literally just be like "I'm angry because of this >:(" and pout right in front of you. On the downside he's actually not quick to forgive. You can apologize but he'll keep pouting and being mad the rest of the day, it's certainly the most childish out of all because he just follows natural instinct as a child would do, which is to express anger by being mad and huffy in front of you to try to invoke more apologies. And if you move and walk somewhere else, he's close behind you, won't let you be alone because he's mad and you need to know he's mad so you have to keep seeing him mad >:( however, also very childishly, one quick way to get him back to normal and even snap from angry to happy is just offering him anything to make him happy. You wanna go for a walk?? Eat some food? Play a game? He just !!! And forgets he was ever mad. Or being overly apologetic, telling him you're sorry, you feel bad, he'll forgive you right...? He's easily manipulable so at that he would start to feel bad himself and forgive you.

Diluc is the biggest candidate for getting outwardly and openly angry. He's got some anger management problems going on, so he can't really control himself well enough to be too passive aggressive, he's just... Aggressive. Gets all snarly and eyes narrowed and openly says petulantly bitter things. Gets physical from the get go, grabbing you and dragging you around when you get frustrated and roll your eyes at him, just drags you to bed for whatever he has planned to get his anger out. Grabs you hard even if you're just pacing around the same room and asks you where the fuck you think you're going, he didn't say you could just walk out. However, because he's so openly angry, the thing is that it's actually kinda good because he gets out the anger all at once without letting it build and build, and so the anger peaks and dies down pretty quickly, and then he's just... Hurt. Folds his arms and looks sadly at the ground, lower lip pouting, very sad puppy eyes. He wants you to feel bad and dote on him and tell him it's ok and you're sorry and you still love him :( ...even though he might have just spent the past few minutes being mean and hurting you... That's not important, what's important is he's sad so you need to comfort him :( if you show him some affection he'll finally kinda just lean into the embrace and bury his head in your shoulder/chest and quietly say forget it, it's dumb, but if you push it he'll admit what he was mad about, just in that same quiet voice.

Albedo is one of the hardest to recognize. You won't know he's mad. It doesn't really show on his face. It doesn't show in his tone of voice or word choice. It's the little actions you finally notice. His walking is heavy, almost stomping. When he finishes with the equipment he was working on, he doesn't set it down gently, he harshly shoves it down or kinda drops it with a loud thud that makes you jump. He nearly slams doors. You can see his hand curled into a fist by his side, or his jaw clenching. If you don't bring it up soon, he starts getting a little passive aggressive, mostly cold shoulder, talks even less than normal. If you bring it up though, he acts like he has no idea what you're talking about. He's not mad. Why would you think that? You have to really push before he finally admits it, and when he does it's one of those rare moments of a break in his usual personality, he snaps and bitterly spits out an answer, speaking through clenched teeth, but more or less is transparent about why. After the outburst he just kinda sighs and says to forget it, nevermind, forget that happened... Secretly is kinda like Diluc, really hoping you'll come over and be all apologetic and tell him you're sorry for what you did wrong, you won't do it again, give him hugs and kisses please, just cling to him... And begging for forgiveness would be nice too. Gets kinda surprised Pikachu face if you actually do try to forget it and move on. Whoops.

Scara though. Almost comical. He's so so so so obviously bitter. His face twists up at half the things you say and he just kinda tch'es and crosses his arms. Openly passive aggressive, openly upset, but if you do what you're supposed to and apologize for what you did, or if you're too stupid to figure it out and have to ask what you did wrong... Well either way, he just flat out refuses. Realistically, it's because he's likely mad over something embarrassingly trivial and small, but can't help but be mad. But he just. Won't. Let it go. It's a weird duality where he refuses to tell you, rolling his eyes and trying to make it sound like it should be obvious, and if you're too dumb then you don't deserve to be told, but also won't get over it. Like Razor he just kinda follows you around because you need to know he's mad dammit. You need to feel bad and recognize that he's perfectly justified in being mad and you should be apologizing. If you start getting an attitude instead of being apologetic he just gets angrier and that's never good. If you finally do figure it out and say sorry he just kinda sighs and asks why it took you so long, clearly you're not sorry at all. Needs you to really grovel and beg for forgiveness before he'll actually let it go. Really snobbish and narcissistic about the whole thing, constantly making you feel stupid for not apologizing immediately.

#scheduled post

[merakilyy]

Ricochet

1. Small kisses littered across the other’s face. 39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Hi Anon! I hope you don’t mind that this is a little bit hurty, but I did try to make up for it by inserting both prompts ^^;;

Summary: Lan Wangji comforts his husband after a bad nightmare. (970 words)

Send me a kiss prompt~~

~~~

“No! Stop!” Wei Wuxian screams incomprehensibly as he shoots up in bed. Tears stream down his face, blurring his vision. There is some light streaming into the Jingshi but it is soft and muted. It is still the early dawn, still several hours before Wei Wuxian’s usual waking time.

The bed shifts as a familiar weight moves beside Wei Wuxian. A hand comes to rest on his back, rubbing soothing circles all over his muscles -- sore from both fulfilling his marital duties with Lan Zhan, and from his violent thrashing in his sleep.

Breathing heavily, Wei Wuxian’s limbs feel as though they have turned to stone. His entire body just feels so heavy and Wei Wuxian wants nothing more than to just melt into the earth. His body is wracked with shivers as he shakes violently, still recovering from his nightmare.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji tries to say placatingly, even though Wei Wuxian can clearly hear the strain in his voice. This is not a regular occurrence, and Lan Wangji certainly has his own share of bone-chilling nightmares, but Wei Wuxian’s nightmares still happen often enough that Wangji knows better than to pull Wei Ying into his lap and hold him safely within his arms. It will only make matters worse if Wei Ying feels trapped, as if the very air he breathes is closing in on him.

There is nothing Wangji wants to do more than to shield Wei Wuxian from worldly perils, to place himself firmly between his husband and that which dares to threaten him, but it is difficult to do that when what troubles Wei Wuxian is not something that is easily seen.

So as Wei Wuxian’s breaths slowly catch back up to him, Lan Wangji is careful to keep his touches scarce. He perches on the edge of their bed, close enough that Wei Ying will sense his presence but far enough that Wei Ying will not feel trapped. 

As he waits for Wei Wuxian to slowly crawl out of the last remnants of his nightmare, Wangji patiently wipes the tears from Wei Wuxian’s face with his silk sleeves. 

The silencing talismans placed all over the Jingshi are for their everyday activities, but serve the secondary function of keeping their respective nightmares private. 

Finally, an indeterminate amount of time later, Wei Wuxian begins blinking the fogginess in his eyes away. 

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks softly, voice strained.

“I am here.” Moving closer to Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan leans in to kiss away the slowing trickle of tears on Wei Ying’s face. He does not touch Wei Wuxian any more than necessary, keeping their touch limited to one point of contact at a time, knowing that Wei Ying will insert himself into Wangji’s embrace when he is ready.

For now, Wangji is content to kiss away each tear that escapes.

“What time is it?” Wei Wuxian eventually asks, allowing Lan Wangji to kiss away the last of his tears. Blinking slowly, Lan Wangji watches the awareness trickle back into Wei Wuxian’s eyes. 

“Still early,” Wangji says vaguely, because he does not know the time either. “Do you wish to talk about it?” He asks as he always does. Even knowing Wei Wuxian will always shake his head, it is important to give Wei Wuxian this choice. 

And Wei Wuxian does just that, shaking his head as he says, “Already forgotten.” 

From his own experience with his own nightmares, Lan Wangji knows that when the nightmare is easily forgotten, its effects last all that much longer. 

Wei Wuxian drags himself into his husband’s lap, limbs still uncooperative and weighing him down as he more or less throws himself at Wangji. Lan Wangji does the rest, shifting Wei Ying’s weight until he is tucked in comfortably against his chest, head resting on Wangji’s shoulder and face buried in Wangji’s neck. 

His body isn’t quite shaking anymore, but his muscles periodically spasm. Well practiced at taking care of a post-nightmare Wei Ying, Lan Zhan simply runs his hand up and down Wei Ying’s leg when it shudders -- as if Wangji is appealing to the tendons underneath to give Wei Ying a break.

“Lan Zhan, shouldn’t you be leading today’s morning meditation?” Wangji can feel Wei Ying’s breath tickling his collarbones as he speaks. After mourning for so long, it is comforting to feel evidence of Wei Ying’s aliveness from the warmth of his breath to the heavy thumps of his heart.

“My husband needs me more,” Wangji responds with absolute conviction, causing Wei Wuxian’s heart to do a little flip just as it does everytime Lan Wangji says something so shamelessly tender.

“My heart…” Wei Wuxian groans, not having the energy to say anything more. 

He doesn’t need to. The corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth quirks upwards, knowing exactly what Wei Wuxian wants to say.

“Sizhui will know to fill in,” Lan Zhan adds, pressing another kiss to the top of Wei Ying’s head.

They stay like that for most of the morning, curled up in each other’s arms and nestled in bed surrounded by blankets. Only a handful of words are passed between them, but Lan Zhan does his absolute best to caress and cuddle every last one of Wei Ying’s woes away.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian finally whispers after Lan Zhan says it is approaching lunchtime. His arms -- his entire body, really -- still feel like overcooked noodles but he summons enough strength to pull himself up high enough to pepper little kisses all over Lan Zhan’s cheeks and across his forehead. Wei Ying’s kisses are both an expression of his gratitude for his husband’s patience, and an apology for interrupting his husband’s day. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums contentedly, happy to hold his husband and soak up each of his loving kisses. “Between us, there is no need for thanks.”

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #sizhui is the best boy #my writing

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Part 4

WARNING: IN THIS EPISODE THERE ARE MENTIONS OF EXTREME PAIN AND DEATH IS HINTED AT (VERY LIGHTLY) BUT IT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME. IF YOU WANT TO READ ON, DO SO RESPONSIBLY. 

I RECOMMEND LISTENING TO THE ORCHESTRA VERSION OF BLACK SWAN WHILE READING TO THIS PART, IT WILL ONLY INCREASE THE FEELINGS I WANT TO EVOKE💖

The concert had ended, and with it went the energy that you had been feeling for most of it. You felt as if you were some sort of mechanical toy that had been unplugged from the electricity you so desperately needed. With every step you took away from that stage, your eyelids felt heavier, your heart pulled on your ribcage and it was growing increasingly difficult to lift your legs and walk.

“Y/N-ah you look just like you did this morning,” Hyejin’s voice reached your ears, making you feel like she was being filtered through some hazy membrane and her voice was too low to hear, “you’re getting paler and paler. Maybe we should take a detour and get someone to look at you…?”

Her worried expression made you instantly regret having lied to her and having attended the concert today. You were in no condition to go there and impose your sickness on her, but who knew that you would experience that temporary high? And who knew that as soon as it passed you would end up feeling worse than ever? Certainly, not you. You urged your lethargic brain to work overtime and think of a good enough excuse that would allow you to get home sooner, no unnecessary detours. It wasn’t great, but you did come up with something, and not particularly a lie.

“I just get really nervous around big crowds, I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic right now…”

With that skeptical look that you’ve grown to be accustomed to, she frowned and took a hold of your forearm, as if she was trying to say ‘you may be as stubborn as you like, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.’

Little by little you made your way out of the stadium, and little by little, you felt life draining from your body. It started little, like the euphoric feeling that had possessed you mere hours ago. Your heart started feeling chilled, and that cold began spreading through your ribcage. You could feel every rib on fire, and then they would start melting and freezing slowly, making you agonise in pain. If you weren’t sure that your bones couldn’t bend at will, you would have sworn that those same ribs were contorting in a struggle to see which one of them could reach your heart sooner and end your painful existence. Then from the ribs, it reached your spine and you could feel molten lava licking each and every one of your vertebrae. You could see the arch that signalled you leaving the Olympic Stadium clearly enough, but your vision blurred as it was approaching. But no, your body wasn’t willing to give you a respite; if it was willing to do that, it would have done so months ago. Each step you took, you could feel your weight shifting from your frame into Hyejin. In the back of your head, you felt incredibly guilty, but you couldn’t bring your brain to focus in anything else that wasn’t the pain you were feeling for longer than a few seconds. Your last remnants of sanity happened to focus on a little stone bench next to one of the vehicle exits of the stadium, and instantly that became your goal and your lifeline. Hyejin was now screaming in the background, her hands touching your forehead to keep your head from bobbling to the side and coming away wet with cold sweat. But you just saw that bench. You felt like walking through sand but eventually arrived there. Your limbs fell flat against the cold surface, while Hyejin lifted your legs and looked around frantically. As you lost the power to keep your head straight, your vision shifted from the starless sky towards the less and less people milling about the stadium after the concert finished; they were all leaving to go home, the closest person too far away to hear Hyejin’s call for help, and the stuff too distracted to do anything.

Funny how after so many years of constant pain, you never thought that same pain would end up killing you. Granted, you were still breathing, but for how much longer? The pain had reached your head now, you thought, as a flash of pain rushed from the back of your head to your left eye, and then did a victory lap around your brain. Was this how it felt like to have your brain torn apart? Poor mummies, having them pulled out of their nose. Was the liquid dripping over your cheek your melted brain? Ah, no, you realised. It was just blood, blood that tainted Hyejin’s hands when she tried to stop the bleeding with tear-filled eyes. 

You wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, to give you some pill that would make you feel numbness again and to go home, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating. Nothing in your body was cooperating for that matter. You could feel the bile rising from your stomach, but once it went pass your throat you couldn’t feel anything anymore. You didn’t even realise your friend had turned you sideways until your left arm went across your chest and hung there, lifeless. Hyejin must have thought that sitting you up would be a good idea, keeping all the fluids in and as soon as she did, you felt the tugging from your ribs intensifying. The fact that you could feel anything anymore startled you out of your pain induced stupor. Now with your back turned to the stadium you could feel the strongest desire in your soul to get up and return inside. And then you felt stupid, how could your inside be demanding something as taxing as impulsing yourself off the bench was actually ridiculous. 

You were really loosing your grasp in reality back then. You couldn’t tell if your eyes were opened or closed, and you could swear you were hearing voices, not belonging to your friend, that much was obvious. A cacophony of sounds coming from all directions, screaming at you and at each other. You could distinguish blurred words here and there, and if you concentrated hard enough, you almost could feel a calming touch in your face. Maybe Hyejin sprouted another hand when I wasn’t looking? What a curious thing to investigate, maybe scientist would be interested. It certainly would make multitasking much more easy. 

Blacking out would be so easy now, the only thing you had to do was block the voices and ignore the tingling in your ears trying to make sense of Hyejin’s panicked screams. Maybe if you closed your already closed eyes, the darkness beyond darkness would take you and everything… would stop… hurti

Jin was worried. Incredibly so. They were still backstage, six of them already dressed and ready to go looking for the damsel, but Hobi was making the task complicated. It started lightly, with him sweating profusely even though the stylists kept drying it away. Then it was him clenching his teeth at the slightest movement. And now it was spiralling out of control.

“I’m telling you this shit is NOT normal!” Shouted Jungkookie while supporting Hoseok’s head so that it didn’t crash against the wall.

“I don’t care if it’s normal or not!” Screamed back Jimin, more scared than angry, “If this girl is leaving the stadium we need to get Hoseokie hyung in a car and out of the stadium now! Don’t you see what the withdrawal is doing to him?!”

“What withdrawal…?” Whispered Hoseok, almost as if his voice was fighting its way back into his throat.

“It makes sense if you think about it though,” mused Namjoon, pushing Hoseok to his feet and manoeuvring him towards the exit, “this is the closest you two have ever been that we know, and it would be logical that your symptoms worsen once you separate again.”

“I don’t care much for these symptoms at the present moment, Namjoon-ah… I feel with one foot on the grave already, I just need to get to her…” answered Hobi back.

The other six men looked at each other in panic. How bad was the pain getting that he wasn’t joking about but telling them he felt half dead?

“Don’t be silly,” chastised Jin, trying to lighten up the mood.

“His symptoms aren’t as bad that they would kill him, right?” Whispered Yoongi, worry colouring his voice and leaning into Jin, who patted his back.

Jin wasn’t about to say it out loud. The fact that maybe the pain wasn’t real, didn’t have a physical ailment causing it, but there was still a nagging at the back of his head that didn’t allow him to speak and put his brother’s mind at ease. Maybe the symptoms weren’t the real danger, but would his heart stand such intense bouts of pain for much longer, or would it just give up? He hoped they could beat the clock and find this girl before any of those fighting hearts decided they couldn’t stop suffering anymore. 

Their walk to the car was excruciating, so much so that Jungkook had to support Hoseok from the side Namjoon wasn’t holding. He stumbled over his feet, crashed against door jambs and walked blindly in the direction of the car. Namjoon could be heard swearing under his breath every time his hand nocked against something hard to protect Hobi’s ribs; he was in enough pain already. 

“How are we going to organise the rides? I don’t feel comfortable having only one of us with Hobi hyun… can you see the thread, TaeTae?” Questioned Jimin.

Taehyung stayed silent, looking in the direction of the vehicle exit and seeing how the red line went straight through the wall. She was out there, she could be on the other side of the city by then, for all they knew. How could they reach her when Hoseok hyung was in such a poor state?

He was about to answer something back to Jimin when he could hear some voices pass the exit. They were trying to calm a hysterical woman that couldn’t stop screaming. Curious, he separated from the group that were trying to coerce Hobi into the car when he wasn’t collaborating at all, and got closer and closer to the screams.

A girl, small and nervous was standing next to a couple of their bodyguards, trying to move one of them from the door and drag him away from the garage. Tears were streaming down her face, her hair in disarray and her headband crooked atop her head. The men were trying their hardest not to be too harsh with her, that much was obvious, but the poor woman was way past the point of caring, screaming her lungs out.

“My friend passed out, she’s almost stopped breathing, please!! She’s bleeding from her ears and nose!”

Looking in the direction she was trying to drag the men, Taehyung saw a figure laying in a bench, a few meters away from them. Her limbs were numbly hanging at her side and her hair fell from the ponytail, Mang headband bloody and laying on the ground. Oh, and the red line of fate disappearing into her back.

“NAMJOON HYUNG!” He screamed, running back to the car and grabbing Namjoon by the arm. “TAKE HOBI HYUNG OUT NOW.” His eyes were wide as saucers and the tension was palpable.

“What so you want Tae? We can’t afford loosing time now!” Stopped Yoongi, now feeling the stress and the fear touching him.

“NEITHER CAN MANG GIRL! HER FRIEND IS LOOSING IT OUTSIDE, SHE FAINTED!”

Those few words seemed to do the trick. Namjoon and Kook turned immediately on their heels, moving Hoseok out of the van, almost unconscious as well, and ran with him almost carrying him to the vehicle exit. The members of Bangtan following behind saw how Hoseok suddenly got free from the hold of his brothers and stood groggily looking around himself. He caught his bearings in a few seconds, enough to start walking, not knowing why or where he was going, but just walking. 

Taehyung and Jin caught Jimin’s arms at the same time when he tried to help Hoseok. Now it was him, getting closer and closer, guided by an invisible pull that took his will away from him. Then he saw the girl in the bench and his world went out of his axis. She was starting to stand up, a hand flying to her head. She was standing now, fast approaching blindly the spot where Hobi had been rooted since he saw her. He was just waiting for her eyes to open. What was pain anymore? If she would just look at him, if their eyes would just meet. Then everything would be alright again.

They were mere meters apart, there was no one else in the world except for those people who needed each other just like they needed oxygen. What would happen when that pressure both of them were feeling pulling on their ribcages ended, when their hearts met in the middle, the closest they had ever been?

Their breath was stuck in their throats, both afraid to look up because they were both clueless about what was happening. She just kept walking towards him, her eyes closed but her course clear, not needing to open them to see him. She must have felt her presence just as clearly as he was feeling hers, from the tip of her nose to the hair in the nape of her neck, going through every nervous ending of her body. Feeling her closer and closer, he raised his hand forward, their fingertips millimetres apart as a current went through their bodies and their eyes opened.

Cristal clear they were seeing each other face to face for the first time, eyes wide open as their hands intertwined and they took a deep breath at the same time. They saw every detail of the face of their soulmate, memorising it beyond reason, beyond possibility. Without them deciding to, they got closer and closer, and they fused in a hug, putting their hearts closer than they had ever been, beating in unison and feeling beyond euphoric, together for the first time and for the rest of their lives.

���Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 4

A/n: OMG this took me the hardest time to edit!! I just couldn’t get their feelings right, but I hope it ended well!!! I hope you guys liked it!! Let’s chat!!

Send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list.

Love 💜🌙

Tag list: @obsessoverthesmallthings247 @threedecadesofawkward @mabel-k3 @tremendousminyoongi @justignoremepleaz @demonic-meatball @hadaises @littlestsweetpea28 @rjsmochii @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @gali-005 @salty-for-suga @indicisive-af @nomimist7 @lyssjeon @raisatarannum1234 @purplelady85 @threedecadesofawkward @valentynxmgc @acopenhagenarmy

#hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #bts jhope #bts jung hoseok #jung hoseok #bts hobi #hobi x reader #bts soulmate au #hobi soulmate au #hoseok soulmate au #hobi x army #hobi x y/n #hobi x you #hoseok x you #hoseok x y/n #hoseok x reader #jhope x y/n #jhope x you #jhope x reader #hobi angst #hoseok angst #bts hoseok #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts namjoon #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts jungkook

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Mixed Messages (spicyhoney, stand alone)

Summary: See, the thing was, Rus was pretty sure he hadn’t come here to have sex.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Slight Angst, Hurty/Comforty, Hints of sexytimes, Older Brothers are Assholes

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

See, the thing was, Rus was pretty sure he hadn’t come here to have sex. Strike that, he was entirely sure, a hundred and ten percent, completely positive that sex was the last thing on his mind when he'd stopped into Underfell to spend a little quality time bitching at Edge for his dickish ways. Turned out he had ways with his dick that Rus hadn't even suspected, but seriously, he hadn't come here for this. “Could you stop thinking so loudly, I’m trying to sleep,” Edge mumbled. His face was mostly buried into the pillow, the words muffled into a slurry of consonants and vowels. See, now that was a revelation of its own, really. Until today, Rus hadn’t known that Edge had the capacity to mumble. Shout, yes, sneer, definitely, bitch? All kinds of fucking yeah. Mumbling, though, that was classed up there with unicorns and shit. Yesterday it would have been in the same company as Edge stripping off and fucking Rus until he’d been begging and pleading. He would’ve forgotten his own damn name if he hadn’t been howling it at the ceiling, even if it was meant for someone else. An endless cry of ‘papyrus!’ coming from Rus seemed pretty damned unlikely not that long ago, but they’d already busted the myth of that one, hadn’t they. It took a Herculean amount of effort, but somehow, Rus managed to loll his skull to one side, his sockets barely slit open. Which was a mistake in a day already loaded to the brim with them. Next to him, Edge was sprawled out on the mattress. The sheet was tangled down by their feet so the sight was all bare bones and scars, liberally decorated with bright smears of sweat and magic. His sockets were still closed and honestly, Rus should probably stop staring but it wasn’t like you got a view like this every day and twice on Saturdays in any of the ‘verses. He supposed he didn’t do too bad, after all. For all his bitching about Rus being lazy, Rus had still managed to fuck Edge into a state of exhaustion. Probably should qualify for an award or something, Rus should get to work on his acceptance speech. But see, the stupid thing was that looking at him had Rus’s magic making a legit attempt at stirring, and Rus groaned, gamely crossing his legs in a futile attempt at stifling it. They’d already had sex five —four? No definitely five times— already. The door flinging open was enough to send his magic cringing back, trying to crawl up his spine to escape, and Rus didn’t even have time to scramble for a corner of the blanket before Red came tromping in with those clodhopper boots of his. “hey, boss, you never showed up at—” Red stopped. He stared at them. Rus stared back. Edge did not stare. He didn’t so much as crack open a socket, he only yawned, “Get out.” Somehow it still managed to be threatening even coming from a well-fucked, naked, gorgeous…yeah, Rus needed to stop staring when he was trying to come up with metaphors. Red didn’t even blink, but he did manage to find the time to dredge up a smirk before taking two steps back and pulling the door shut with a slam. Probably the most prudent thing he’d seen Red do about ever, except no, that was pint-size, pain in the ass, parcel of trouble headed out to the mailbox. “what are you doing!” Rus hissed. He gave Edge a hard shove, which was about as effective as shoving a brick wall. “stop him!” “Stop him?” One socket, the one without a crack, slid barely open and the eye light within gazed at Rus with beady disinterest. “Why? Or more to the point, how? You’re the one who can teleport.” “yes, but he won’t kill you!” Rus whined. The longer they sat here, the further away Red got, one plodding step at a time. “He’s not going to kill you, either. Maim, possibly.” Edge tried to roll over and he made a grumbling sound as Rus grabbed hold of him. “would you be serious? you need to tell him to keep his trap shut!” “Let’s circle back to why.” Oh, for flying fuck's sake, he must've fucked all of Edge's common sense out of his skull, too. “because in an hour every person we know is going to hear about how he caught us knocking pelvises!” “Don’t be stupid.” His socket slid back shut and as Rus started to relax, he added, “He’s already told everyone we know by now, he probably sent a group text.” That…was probably true and Rus could feel his soul sinking towards his shoes. Shit, his brother was going to laugh his ass off after he stopped with the stream of 'I told you so's. “and i guess that doesn’t piss you off in the slightest.” “Why would it?” “Because!" Rus sputtered, did he really need to explain this? "you…you think i'm an idiot! you don’t even like me!” “You are an idiot, ” Edge said agreeably and yeah, that went with the status quo. What came next, not so much. “Of course I like you.” “but—" the words were cut off as Edge seemed to have found an unexpected supply of energy somewhere, rolling top of him. He was heavy, solid, strong bones that were cluttered with scars that somehow didn't make him even an ounce less attractive. Which was a damn shame because he really was heavy. Edge braced over Rus on his elbows, looking down at him with eye lights much brighter and a hell of a lot less exhausted than Rus would have guessed. “Rus,” Edge said, infinitely patient. “May I point out that you’re in my bed, naked, after a large quantity of very satisfying sex.” “having sex with me doesn’t mean you like me.” And he hated the smallness in his voice, stupid, so stupid, but he'd swear on his own soul that Edge was the one who started it, okay, he was an asshole casserole most days, with extra cheddar on top and it was really hard to remember that when Edge ducked his head down, his long, lithe tongue curling slickly around Rus's cervical vertebrae. “That is true. Sex on its own doesn't imply affection.” Hot breath against his damp bones made Rus shudder. It was incredibly difficult to resist tipped his head up into that warm mouth. So Rus didn’t bother. Fuck it, giving in was a hell of a lot closer to his shtick. “But the fact that you’re still here is a clue.”

Okay, so he hadn't come here to have sex. But as Rus pushed hard on Edge's shoulder, shoving him over on his back to straddle his bare pelvis and Edge let him, let him, a smirk curving his mouth, fuck, he was sure staying for the sex.

And if Red was out there texting the Universe at large, Rus hoped he sprained a thumb.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #standalone

[williamcheart]

- ̗̀ * ( bill skarsgard + cismale + he/him ) have you seen ( william ‘colt’ heart ii ) walking around campus ? they are a ( twenty-four ) year old, studying ( business + literature ). we hear they are in ( omicron tau xi ), and can be ( composed & detached ), maybe it’s because they are an ( aquarius ). they sort of remind us of ( chicken scratch handwriting, trembling hands, a coach’s whistle ), maybe we can find out more ! * ̖́- + literary magazine

u were all wondering whomstve the bill skarsgard fc reserve was . . . . it was I and i have no mcfuckin’ regrets. we love. and stan. william colton heart the second

tw. cancer, death, substance abuse, car accident, mental illness.

gen info!

full name: william colton heart ii

nickname(s): will to his family, colton/just colt to p much everybody else. his full name is reserved for family and when he’s in troubule tbh

b.o.d. - feb. 19th he an aquarius bby

label(s): the fallen, the phoenix, the crestfallen, etc. etc.

height: tall but taller than benjy tall like we’re talking a whopping 6′4″ jfc

hometown: beaufort, south carolina !!

sexuality: b...i...?

bio info!

born n raised in beaufort, south carolina--william is the eldest heart sibling

was a really quiet kid, tbh, like he minded his business and stuck close to the people he knew

always, always wanted to impress his parents, so he always studied hard for school and kind of put all his focus into it ??

it was a pressure for him, really, bc he’d always been told that he’s gonna inherit the family business like how his dad did, etc. etc.

and like...sweetie never wants to disappoint anyone, ever.

he was never considered a nerd tho?? like he’s always been freakishly tall, and his quietness sort of made him intimidating to be around b/c it always felt like he was judging u bc he’d always have to look down at u

has always been super protective over his younger siblings, feels as if it’s his duty to be the put-together brother

he’s never had to fight anybody tho, and like, thank god for that b/c he’s definitely not a fighter, considers himself to be a pacifist for the most part

bc like...he can just stare u down and ur like uuuh gtg bye !!1!111!!!

anyways, grew up riding horses, finds it v v peaceful but he stopped when they moved to california

but track has always been his kinda thing regardless of where he’s at, tried out for track his freshmen yr of high school n was the star of the team tbh

he met a gal going by the name dinah during a track meet the middle of his freshmen yr

she was taking photos for the yearbook and stuttered over her words more often than not, even when she teased william

and like...tbh? william adored her immediately

it really wasn’t soon at all until they started dating, like, they were the high school couple

they complimented each other v v well and were prolly always together lbr

i’m hc’ing that his family also adored dinah like it’s law

dinah is the one who like...really encouraged him to pursue writing as something more serious than just for fun, because will had always enjoyed writing--esp poetry--but he didn’t want it to get in the way of his future w the stables ??

and like...fuck, they were so cute, guys. they were so mf cute.

dinah got diagnosed w/ lung cancer in the beginning of their junior year; she began online school halfway thru b/c she didn’t have the energy physically to go to class, went thru a looot of chemo

william was with her the entire time, y’know, if he wasn’t in school or at track he’d probably be with her the most, trying to cheer her up in the ways he could, helped her study for their SATs bc he knew it was rly important to her

by the summer she was in remission and they thought that was it--still super fucking careful, but they really genuinely thought that that was the end of it y’know ?? that she’d just be better ??

they got into a few months of senior year with her being healthy enough to go to school again, but the further time passed...dinah relapsed, rapidly, and the cancer had spread to other parts of her body

they spent their last valentine’s day in the hospital, and the next day she was gone

it...crushed william, just kind of changed his life, y’know? dinah was all he knew and he really didn’t know how to live w/o her

spent a lot of his time locked away in his room or never even home to begin with, just wandering about hopelessly or sleeping, or trying to sleep that is

poured his heart into his poetry, though--in dinah’s honor, he tried so mf hard to keep doing what he loved even though he was so hurt

it was because of his constant hard work, and dinah’s past encouragements, that william entered and won a poetry contest during his senior year. got a hella scholarship that made everybody proud of him, just b/c he was ~defying odds~

kinda put on this mask so that others wouldn’t see how bad he was doing ?? b/c he’s the level-headed brother, y’kno, the one who always had his shit together and knew what he was doing

dinah and william won cutest couple and even prom king n queen as a sort of tribute to dinah but will didn’t even go to prom tbh he got drunk and threw cans of beer off of a cliff

anyways, he graduated high school n attended ucla bc that was his dad’s school and gdi he’s tryn his best to follow in his footsteps

even got into his dad’s frat b/c he was that determined

he didn’t rly partake much in parties but he did indulge every once in a while, y’know, just to do it, was finally getting his shit back together and doing well for once y’know?? he joined track n took it p seriously

when angela heart died, all of that fell apart again

he took an entire year off of school b/c at that point his mental health had taken a really bad turn, depression was sort of controlling his life and he was spiraling so mf far down that he sometimes couldn’t recognize himself

during that time he published his first and second poetry book under w.c. heart; it’s super morbid, depressing, you can pretty much feel his depression as it manifests in the pages. it begins with poetry from his earlier years, of when he was with dinah and then afterwards, when she dies

the second poetry book is about healing, and then how sometimes you can fall back even when you’re doing good (i.e. around the time lil baby angel died)

when he finally did go back to school he had a much better mindset, seemed to be doing well--was one of the best on the track team--partied a little harder, did drugs more often than usual but nothing too extreme y’know ??

his junior year he got into a p bad car accident n derailed into a body of water after crashing his side of the car into another and losing control of his vehicle

like honestly thank god for the stranger who immediately stopped their car and went totally-hero on the situation, they got william out of the car before he could drown and essentially saved his life, before calling 911 and just. disappearing as soon as the sirens were audible

somehow his left leg got mc’fucked in the incident and it just so happened to ruin his track career

also gave william a fear of swimming/deep water + driving. like. he never wants to be in control of a car again. it really added onto his anxiety and was probably the root of his panic disorder tbh

he took another year off of school to recover from his injuries and to just fucking...put himself in some therapy, because he knows. when it’s time to take care of himself. is really still determined to b the best, he’s just trying to take his time now.

got addicted to painkillers b/c of the injury, sought them out after his prescription ran out; it varies between oxy, vicodin, n percocets and like...they mix really badly w/ his antidepressants tbh ??

that’s v v hush-hush bc he doesn’t want people to worry about him moreso than they already do after like...all these tragic mf events y’know.

he had moved out of his greek house to live on his own but after his second time coming back to ucla he moved back in b/c that way somebody could kick his ass if he fell down the rabbit hole again y’know

his antidepressant, lexapro, causes hallucinations and now he’s been seeing dinah everywhere, hearing her voice, etc. etc. he thinks he’s finally going insane and also keeps it v hush hush b/c he doesn’t want people to think he is

he looks worse for wear but he just. keeps on pretendin’.

personality!

he’s just ... really calm tbh?

he’s always been the (or one of the) least fussy child, hated starting conflicts

if anything he’s always been a mediator ?? the peacemaker, tries to resolve things before they get outta hand

he hates fighting, physical n verbal, refuses to partake in it

even when dinah n him would get into arguments he’d be really quiet during them

that being said he wasn’t like antisocial or anything just bc he was quiet y’know ??

he was the quiet cool dude who was always popular for some fucking reason (its the height im telling u) and offered rly good advice

he’s a big fucking softie lemme tell u . . . he cries at most movies tbh

v intelligent, still carries small dumbass energy b/c he doesn’t make the best choices as u can tell

v v good at his craft, has been working on his third poetry book but has a lil bit of writer’s block atm and it’s ? torturing him tbh ?

he’s got a sense of humor but it’s like . . . kind of morbid tbh like he deals w shit via locking up his emotions and using humor as a coping mechanism

he’s a sentimental piece of shit tho we love him. he has a bottle of dinah’s favorite perfume and sprays his bed w it before he goes to sleep

that being said he really...isn’t over her, still, y’know ??

he’s 100% sure that she was his soulmate and he doesn’t think she could ever be replaced

(silly boy u cant replace people ! u just. meet people who fit u in other ways.)

hates being babied b/c he’s the oldest goddammit, that’s his job

he has a lil bit of a limp but like . . . that’s just bc his leg hurty

did i mention he’s protective bc he 100% is like listen.

he can bully his siblings. u cannot. that’s the rule sorry

even when his siblings r bullying each other he like body-flops on top of them and is p much like fucking Stop

he’s in his last yr of college but he’s doing grad school right after b/c he rly. doesn’t wanna b a partner w his dad. he doesn’t wanna own the stables or breed horses. he’s troy bolton and writing is his singing, horsebreeding is his basketball.

okay he really wants to know who tf pulled him outta the water b/c he never got to say thank u and he’s just like ?? LET ME SAY THANK U GODDAMMIT

he’s lowkey in the party scene but he’s also a bit of a wallflower when it comes to them, he prefers to drink his alcohol n watch ppl b idiots or sit on a roof high off his ass with a pal

he’ll fuck u but he wont date u but like so will most of the guys so he’s not unique he’s just a hashtag tortured artist

like it’s so hard for him to connect w others in a potentially romantic way ?? bc he just doesn’t feel anything and u cant really blame him for it tbh

has panic attacks n insomnia but u aint hear it from me

ironically........has taken up smoking cigarettes, as well.......even tho his gf died from lung cancer.......will why?

oh right bc i commanded thee

wanted connections !!

WHO PULLED HIM OUTTA THAT MF CAR CRASH ?? - i wanna know mf !!

his siblings uwu - GIVE US THE LAST HEART. PLEASE.

roommate - !! they can b chill or hate each other tbh who knows

frat bros - please.

uuuh general friends i guess ??

will they wont they - they’re rly close but will is really dumb and straight refuses to acknowledge the fact that they’d b like . . . perfect together

general unrequited things - william is emotionally unavailable, lmao, let’s see how that works w others

current hookups - he’s a bit of a slut, let’s b real. we ain’t shaming him b/c we don’t do that in 2k19 but we also speaking truths

good influences - please...help him get better

confidantes - somebody he just can fuckin complain to w/o feeling shitty or guilty for it

bad influences - make him. worse. he’s doing bad but he’s not at his worst yet.

anything. else. u want. i will do. i can do. i am god. i have ultimate power. william is my pAWN.

#uclas:intro #lmao here he is #please love him he's fragile #he's a good boy he's just a lil damaged #very damaged #but ykno...he's fine #smoking tw #uwuwuwuwu

[moonlitjiminn]

Precious | Taehyung, You

This is a Purple AU! So make sure you read that before this hehe :)

Every love story is beautiful, but ours is my favorite.

Tori and Taehyung were just finishing the last of their breakfast, kindly made for them by Jungkook, sitting in Taehyung's living room and just chatting about their week. Tori was now a medical researcher at the same hospital Taehyung was a doctor at. They spent every spare second together because they didn't have much free time aside from the company dinners and late nights trying to plan surgery procedures or research projects.

Over the years, they got to watch each other change, and in the most immense ways. Taehyung was still his down to earth self, shrivelling in crowds and hated being the centre of attention, but Tori's confidence had rubbed off on him, that he was pinned the master of presentations at work, and even had his turn of participating in the medical department's plays at University during his Masters. And obviously, when he was alone with Tori, he would never feel the slightest bit nervous.

They got up and washed their plates, continuing to laugh and talk about Taehyung's patients, including one seven year old who would always have a new dad joke for him whenever they had an appointment, and he would make sure to have a bad dad joke to reply back with.

"What time did the man go to the dentist?" the little boy asked, swinging his legs under the chair, making Taehyung's heart melt.

"Uhm, I don't know?"

"Tooth-hurty."

Taehyung chuckled, "Okay I got one, what is Beethoven's favourite fruit? A ba-na-na-na."

Tori shook her head, "That was such a bad one."

"It's meant to be bad!" he walked around her, wiping his hands with the towel, "He secretly loved it, I swear."

"Well, can I tell you a secret?" Tori tugged Taehyung closer, her thumb rubbing his chin. "I'm getting married tomorrow."

His smile widened, eyes dropping to her lips, "Oh?" he pressed her to the wall, catching her mouth in a searing kiss. Playing at flings and strangers. "Tell your fiancé he has excellent taste. I'm engaged myself. Lovely thing. Amazing eyes."

"Fantastic kisser?"

"Now you're fishing," he smirked, leaning down and letting his lips capture hers.

"I bet she is."

--

Tori was worried. Not because she just remembered she was about to make one life-changing decision, but because in that group of Taehyung's friends, there was someone bound to make a mistake. Her wedding had to be perfect, but with them in the mix, she didn't know what could go wrong.

This caused her to be on her toes, anyone had anything to say to the wedding planner, you bet she was standing right behind her shoulder listening in.

"What do you mean Seokjin lost the rings?" she exclaimed, "How can he lose the rings?"

The wedding planner grabbed her shoulders, "Shh, calm down, it's okay, I'm going to find them, don't you worry."

"No, I'm coming, I'm going to help look for them, let's go."

"Someone ripped one of the bridesmaid's dresses," a stylist running into the room said, making Tori's eyes grow wide.

The wedding planner turned to her, "Honey, all I need you to do is sit here and smile, it'll be alright."

"You think I'm going to-"

"Jenny?" she called, causing Jen to come scurrying in.

"You called?"

"Babysit the bride for me, please."

She grinned, sitting on the cushioned couch next to Tori, "Girl you need to calm."

"Dude, Taehyung's nuthead friends are gonna ruin my wedding," she wailed, slapping her forehead, "Why did I put them in charge of so many things."

"Taehyung's nuthead friends are responsible that's why... kinda," she shrugged, "I'm sure nothing's wrong, breathe man, you don't need to be worrying."

"He firkin lost the rings!"

--

Apart from the wedding poster falling and the champagne bottle lid flying into the cake, nothing went wrong during the day. Of course Namjoon (Taehyung's childhood friend from preschool) was in charge of hanging the posters and popping the champagne, but no blame was put on him. The rings were actually in Taehyung's blazer pocket the whole time and the wedding planner managed to stich up the small hole in the bridesmaid's dress – it wasn't the slightest bit visible.

"You look beautiful," Taehyung had leaned over to tell Tori when the ceremony was over. During the event, neither of them had been in the right state of mind to say anything apart from what was planned.

"You look quite dashing yourself," she sniffed, her tears failing her now when she realised that he wasn't no longer her fiancé, but her husband. That they really were going to spend the rest of forever together.

"I love you," he whispered, amidst all the chaos happening in the church as everyone began filing out.

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in the space between his shoulder and his neck. His arms hugged her back, kissing her earlobe as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"Are you ready for nights spent watching Doctor Who and listening to dad jokes for the rest of your life?"

"Why do I even love you?" she joked amongst her tears, knowing full well that that was the actual reason she did.

--

Taehyung wrapped his arms around Tori's waist, pulling her back against his chest as they sat against the bed frame. He rested his chin on her right shoulder and she felt his breath tickle her neck when he spoke.

"It's been a while... since I felt like everything is in place again, since I felt like life was in order."

She grinned, trying not to let him hear how loud her heart was hammering against her chest.

I am so not used to Taehyung being the cheesy one.

"Well, for me, you being in my life was the first time my life felt in order."

He let out a small laugh, placing a quick kiss on her shoulder blade, to which she shuddered.

I will never get used to this.

He stopped, resting his forehead against her shoulder. Is that a good or bad thing?

"I'm sorry," she felt his voice vibrate across her back, "For not being good enough."

She frowned, turning around and placing her arms on his shoulder, her thumbs holding his jaw, "What are you on about?"

"I mean, I'm not... you know... experienced, and I don't really know what I'm doing... this is my first -"

"Tae," she cut him off, shaking her head, "Don't be stupid. I don't care about your relationships before this one, what matters is that you're in this one, with me," she grinned, "I fell in love with this Taehyung, and the qualities this Taehyung has," she poked his chest, making him smile, "So don't ever feel like you're not enough, you're so much more than that for me."

"So," he flopped off of her, reaching for the TV remote, "Doctor Who?"

Tori rolled her eyes, taking the remote from him, "Honey, we literally just got married and you want to spend our first night together watching Doctor Who?"

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence, "You said you wanted to spend it doing something that made your heart flutter."

"Which is why we're going to watch The Bachelorette," she played along, leaning back against the frame and turning the TV on.

Taehyung laughed, "Oooh I heard Cecilia and James were really hitting it off," he joined Tori, leaning his head against her shoulder. Peeking at her from the side, he smiled, not knowing how many times he could tell her he loved her. If he could put it into words he totally would, and splatter it across a poster, and frame it, and hang it over the bed – their bed. God how nice that sounds. Their house. Their living room. Their bedroom. Both of them. Together.

His lips went to her neck, pecking it slowly, and tracing it's way up, onto her jaw and down her chin. By now she had put the remote down – with a grin – and pulled him closer with her arms.

"Who knew," she shook her head, making Taehyung look up at her. "That the cute nerd would turn out to be my cute husband."

"And, the stunning girl with the strange eyes, my wife."

--

Tori had woken up first the next morning, but she just stayed there, her arm resting in the palm of her hand, elbow on her pillow. Staring at the beautiful man in front of her, she couldn't help but smile at how he slept, his chest rising slowly and quietly, his eyes scrunching a few times here and there, but it was the soft humming sound he would produce on occasion that awed her.

He was just so perfect.

One eye opened and as soon as he saw her watching him, he immediately covered his face.

Tori laughed, "Good morning handsome."

"Don't look at me!" he turned away, "Oh gosh I probably look horrible."

Tori fell back unto the bed, running her arms around Taehyung and hugging his back, "You're so precious," she whispered into his shoulder, "And no, you look just as beautiful as you always do."

He turned to face her, smiling when they made eye contact.

"You're more precious."

"You're the most precious," she giggled, resting her hand on his cheek, "Because I love you."

Reaching over, he kissed her forehead, "If this is what being married feels like why hadn't I done it before," he sighed, dropping his head on the pillow.

Tori slapped his stomach, "Ow!"

When he saw her glaring at him, he held his hand up, "Obviously with you though."

"You're doing the dishes," she said with an evil smile, kissing his forehead, "That's also what being married is like."

#bts #taehyung #bts taehyung #bts scenario #taehyung scenario #bts taehyung scenario #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts taehyung scenarios #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts taehyung fluff #bts angst #taehyung angst #bts taehyung angst #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung fanfic #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #bts taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfics #taehyung fanfics #bts taehyung fanfics

[corvid-knight]

Can't Stop Won't Stop

Hoo boy.

Instead of an attempt at a real summary, I'm just going to say a couple things here. One, this is an old fic. Either the second or third homestuck thing I ever wrote. Two, this was written when I was in maybe the shittiest mental state I've ever been in, so like. It's kind of straight out wish fulfillment ("hey I hate my life love me" kind of thing.) (Also I swear things have gotten a hell of a lot better since I wrote this. Like. Don't worry.)

There's self-harm in this.

There's also a rare instance of me writing Dave rapping. I'm still very proud of that even if it sucks.

Nobody dies and there's no blood spilt. I promise.

(Read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031870)

You are DAVE STRIDER. You're alone in your room, in the dark but for the glow of your computer screen. You're still wearing your shades, though—you always wear the shades, partly because your best bro John gave them to you, partly because you don't like people to see your eyes, and partly because your eyes are hella sensitive to light. Of course, if anyone asks, you wear them because you are the coolest dude on earth.

Not that that's saying much anymore. You, John, Dirk (not your Bro, no matter how much he looks and talks and acts like your Bro he's not), and Jake are probably the last male humans in this universe. And it's your fault, isn't it? You started the game that ended the world.

You push your shades up onto your forehead, rub your eyes, and settle them back into place again.

John's called you a hero, but you're...

You started the game.

You were too afraid to kill your own sleeping self and go godtier.

You were too slow and weak to help your Bro.

You started the game, and that's the one that repeats in your head, all the splintered versions of yourself murmuring it because in everything that you've done that's the thing that haunts you. You invited John into this, you entered as his server player, you were the one who didn't see the danger until it was too late, you were the one who ended the world. You were the one who killed everyone, really, John's dad and Rose's mom and your own Bro, and everything that followed was a result of what you did.

You are anything but a hero.

You shake off the dark thoughts, for a moment at least, and open a new tab in your browser, pulling up the question forum where you left a question. It was simple enough: Is suicide considered either Heroic or Just? In other words, if you're godtier and you kill yourself, will it take?

You went full-on anonymous. Plain black text, no username or anything. Nothing to show who you are.

There's a reply. Five words, in off-yellow text: dont bee a fuckiing iidiiot.

You stare at the words for a moment, then type in a placating reply: It's just a question. Don't get all uptight, dude.

You know who uses that color and quirk, but this forum seems to exist in a half-dozen timelines at once, and you've gotten answers from past and future versions of your friends before, so it might not be exactly who you think it is.

Before you even finish that thought, another message comes up: ii'm not beeing uptiight, youre beeing 2tupiid. death fuckiing hurt2, and the people you leave beehiind get hurt even wor2e.

Your fingers move across the keyboard, spelling out your thoughts and hitting the enter key before you can think about what you're saying: I deserve it, death can't hurt any more than living does, and no one cares enough to be hurt when I do it.

Reading your words onscreen, you realize that you wrote "when" instead of "if." It's really the first time that you admitted, even to yourself, that you're going to go through with this.

While you're still considering that admission, more words come up: 2top. just 2top, ok? ii dont care how much you thiink people hate you. even iif you think there i2 no one out there who care2, there ii2 2omeone, 2omewhere, who wiill cry when youre gone. dont you fuckiing dare hurt your2elf, 2triider.

You puzzle over the last word for a minute before you see that it's supposed to be your name. When you get it, you freeze for a second, then type: I'm not Strider. I don't know who you're talking about.

This time the reply comes back almost immediately: come on dude. we both know ii'm capable of traciing you back, and you diidnt exactly cover your track2. and ii mean what ii 2aiid. iif your hurt your2elf, youre hurtiing everyone who know2 you, and ii'm countiing my2elf iin that. ii dont have enough friiend2 to lo2e another one, dave.

"Damn it," you mutter. "Don't make this about you, Sollux." You type in: You don't know me.

You're about to close the tab and shut down your computer for the night, but before you can move the cursor to the X, another message comes up: 2triider, ii know you better than ii know my be2t friiend. ii know what iit'2 liike to know that your friiend2 are goiing to diie, and have to 2tand iidly by and do nothiing. ii know what it'2 like to 2ee your lu2u2—or parent, whatever—diie in front of you. ii know about your brother, ii know you thiink you kiiled hiim, and ii'm here to tell you that you diidnt.

You hit each key deliberately, but not as hard as you want to: dont talk about bro to me.

You wait for the answer this time, and it does come: you diid nothiing wrong. there wa2 nothing any of u2 could have done to 2ave hiim. to 2ave any of them. ii know, dave.

Your lip hurts from how hard you're chewing on it. It's a stupid nervous habit that Bro trained you out of when you were ten, and you've only started doing it again since he's been gone. You type: Shut up. You don't know anything about it, you weren't there.

The screen stays static after your text comes up, and you stare at it, biting your lip and praying that no more yellow text will come up, that you'll reach the point when you can shut down the computer and walk away. You think of walking into the bathroom, opening the cabinet in the dark and reaching up to the back of the top shelf, feeling around for the still-sealed box of razor blades—

But more words are appearing, under your last ones: ii kiilled my mate2priit wiith my own hands. my lu2u2 diied a2 ii watched. the giirl that could have been my mate2priit 2tepped iin front me and diied takiing a hiit that wa2 2uppo2ed to kiil me. ii wa2 almo2t 2 where you are now, and iit took a hell of a lot of repiitiion2 for my friiend2 2 get thii2 through my thiick 2kull: no matter what you diid or thiink you diid, you dont get to pa22 judgement on your2elf. you are not your own judge, jaiilor, and executiioner. you are not.

You stare at the screen. You honestly don't know what to say to that, what arguements you could use, because half of you can see the truth there.

After a moment, more words come up: 2triider? you 2tiill there?

"How can you know me this well?" you ask, leaning back and pulling your shades off, letting them dangle loosely from one hand, and in the same breath you say, "You don't know shit."

More yellow text comes up: goddammiit 2triider

"I killed everyone," you say, and every bit of your soul believes that statement. You let the shades slip out of your fingers, onto the floor, as you tip the chair back, finding perfect equilibrium and balancing it on two legs. "Every one of my friends, over and over again."

And more: dave fuckiing an2wer me

"I'm worse than useless." You close your eyes. "When I die, at least I can't kill them again."

You'll get up. In a minute, and you do mean in a minute, but suddenly you're tired and you want to sit for a sec. When you get up, you'll go into the bathroom. No need for the lights—you know where what you need is, and you know where the shower is. You can turn the shower on in the dark, that'll wash most of the blood away and make it a little less disgusting for whoever finds you.

Someone shouts—a hoarse inarticulate battle cry—and, from the sound of it, slams a battering ram into your door. Startled, you overbalance the chair. "Shit—" You swallow the rest of the sentence as you hit the floor, bite your lip, and taste blood.

The door's locked, but whoever's pounding on it doesn't seem to care, and after a second blow something splinters. For a moment, even the low light from the hallway is too bright, and you have to blink a few times before you can recognise who it is in your doorway.

Whoever it is short and dark, with nubby horns that almost hide under the artfully messy black hair. Karkat Vantas, you realize a moment before he starts shouting.

"Strider! Fucking answer me!" He sounds angry, he always sounds angry, but there's a current of worry underneath the anger that you've never heard from him before. "Dave!"

"Did you just break my door down?" You sit up, fingering your lip. It hurts, and there's blood staining your fingers when you take your hand away. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"You—" Karkat looks past you, higher than your head. At the computer screen behind you. "Fuck..." And he strides across the room and kneels next to you. "Sollux messaged me. He said he was afraid you were going to do something stupid."

"I'm fine." It's a lie, you can hear how bad a lie it is as you say it. You fumble around on the floor, looking for your shades in the faint light from the hall and from your computer. After a second, your hand brushes against them, and you scoop them up. Before you can put them back on, Karkat snatches them out of your hand.

"Don't you fucking lie," he growls, reaching back and setting them on the desk, out of your reach. "Don't you distance yourself like that. What the fuck are you thinking? You can't just die, it doesn't work like that. How the fuck do you think the rest of us are going to feel?"

You wipe your mouth again, and look at the faint streak of red instead of at Karkat. "I'm the reason you can count 'the rest of us' on your fingers," you point out quietly. "You'd be better off—"

"Fucking nooksniffer bulgebrain wriggler," Karkat mutters, and puts his hands on your head, the hollows of his palms at your temples. He pulls your head up, forcing you to meet his strange eyes, shockingly yellow and black with no sclera, framed by shadows darker than his grey skin. His hands are warm, further reminding you how alien he is. "Stop talking like you're fucking expendable. You're a person, not some piece in some cosmic fucking game, and you're not fucking killing yourself."

"I—" You have some arguement, you have it half-planned in your mind, but he runs his hands upward through your hair, like you're some small animal he's petting, and the strangeness of it—the amazing gentleness of his hands, so much at odds with his anger—drives everything else out of your head.

Karkat makes a noise that isn't anything like a word, just a incoherent expression of anger. "What do you humans even do without horns?" he mutters. "I don't fucking get how you people calm each other down. I...fuck." He takes his hands out of your hair—you find yourself oddly sad about that—and sits back on his heels, dragging one arm across his face. When he takes it away, you realize that he's close to tears. "I'm no fucking good at this shit," he says, reaching out with one sharp-nailed finger and wiping a last bit of blood off your lips. "I got fucking lucky last time, one time, and now Sol texts me...he knows how I feel about you, he knows I couldn't stay away and let you..."

"Wh-what?" Something about him is incredibly calming, it always is, even when he's shouting; it's like he's some soothing drug, making you feel like everything is almost all right. But sometimes, you find yourself listening to his voice so closely that you miss what words he's saying. He can't have implied what you inferred. "I don't—"

"You need a moirail, or a fucking matesprit," Karkat says bluntly, "and I wish it was me. And don't give me that 'not a homosexual' shit—number one, it doesn't make any fucking sense, and number two, I've seen how you look at Egbert." He shakes his head, meeting your eyes for a second and then looking down. "You...fuck, I don't know."

"I...this isn't about John. None of this is about him." You feel your face heating up, a blush that you know lights your albino skin like a traffic light. Karkat's right: you look at John, when he's not paying attention, and you had a crush on him, when you met him and before you met him, and you love him and always will, like a brother. But he isn't interested in you as anything else, and you know it, and the peeks that you sneak add up to nothing more than one more guilt to be thrown upon a pile already sky-high. "I never said I was straight—"

"I don't know what that means." Karkat shrugs.

"It means..." Staring at his lowered head, you get an urge to touch him, to feel the heat of his skin, and instead of finishing your sentence, instead of thinking of all the reasons you shouldn't, you reach out and run your fingers through his black hair. It's soft and a little tangled, and as you move your fingers you brush against one of his stubby horns.

Karkat makes a sound like a soft growl, deep in his throat, and his eyes snap up to meet yours. There's pain on his face, pain and sorrow and fear and hope and desire all snarled up together. He reaches out, laying his hands gently against your head again, letting his fingers get tangled in your white hair. He closes his eyes, growling so softly that it can't be called a growl, so softly that he isn't growling, he's...he's purring.

"Karkat," you say, connecting the noise that he's making with his name and forgetting everything in your life except this ridiculous coincidence, this lingual joke across two universes. "Karkat, like a fucking cat, you're a cat, oh my god—"

Karkat lets you go, brushing off your hands as you start to laugh. Fifteen minutes ago you were alone in this room, ready to end everything and force a personal game over, and now you're laughing at a dumb pun that no one in particular created. And that thought makes you laugh harder.

"You really know how to ruin the moment," Karkat grumbles, crossing his arms and looking away from you.

You're still laughing as you lean forward, put one hand under his chin to turn his face to you, and kiss him.

He hesitates for a second, barely long enough for you to fear that you're wrong to do this—and then he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer and kissing you back.

Karkat tastes like salt and sweetness, like something foreign and exotic, something that you've been looking for your entire life and never found before now. His teeth are smooth as you run your tongue across them, nubby like his horns but wickedly sharp, sharp enough to make you feel like you're on the verge of cutting your tongue, that kissing him is flirting with danger like you'd love to flirt with him. He's growling—or purring—again, and it feels like your head is resonating with it, with him.

You slip your hands up under his shirt, touching his skin. Sliding your hands across his chest, feeling the ridges of his ribs, his heart beating faster than yours ever could.

Karkat moans, exhaling into your mouth, then pulls away. He doesn't let go of you, though. "Wait," he says, and you get an unreasonable flash of pride at how out-of-breath he sounds. "No...no pailing, okay? Not tonight. You...you need something to look forward to, and you need to sleep."

He shifts his grip as you're parsing that sentence, then stands up, lifting you like you weigh next to nothing. The pure shock of it holds you still for a moment—he's tiny, he barely comes up to your shoulders, how can he pick you up this easily?—and then you twist in his arms. "Karkat, c'mon, put me down—"

"Would you fucking cooperate?" The door to your bedroom is ajar; Karkat kicks it open and carries you through, depositing you unceremoniously on the bed. "There; you're down." He flicks on the light, then pulls his shirt off over his head, folding it in a few quick motions and laying it on top of your dresser.

"What are you doing?" You sit up, flicking hair out of your eyes.

"You think I'm gonna leave you alone?" Karkat glares at you, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest. "And come back tomorrow morning, and find you fucking dead? No fucking way. Move over."

You don't, but he sits down on the bed anyway.

"Karkat—" You stop yourself. Take a deep breath, hold it for a second, let it out again. You don't know why you're arguing with him; you don't want him to go. "Okay."

And you do something that you wouldn't do if it were someone else sitting there, if it were John or Dirk or fucking anyone but Karkat—or if you hadn't seen the oh-so-faint scars covering his chest and back like spiderwebs, only a shade paler than his grey skin. You pull your shirt off, wadding it into a ball and tossing it off the end of the bed. It takes all of your self-control to keep your hands at your sides, to not cross your arms and try to hide what's on your skin.

"Wow." Karkat's tone is soft, not pitying but maybe a bit sad. He touches you lightly with one long-nailed finger, starting at your shoulder and following the tracery downward. "What are they from?"

Usually, you don't talk about your scars. Usually, you don't even admit they exist. Now, you take Karkat's hand and guide it to the worst and most noticable one, the thick vertical line dead center of your chest. "This one's from Jack Noir. When he...stabbed me. Killed me." You move his hand upward, to one running diagonally across your shoulder. This one's thinner, but longer as well, and you can still remember when it happened. "This one, I was sparring with Bro, and one of us fucked up. Probably me." To the other side, lower, a horizontal cut that's faded to almost nothing. "The first time I ever practiced with Bro, I didn't realize that blades bounce, and he...he didn't know I wouldn't know that."

Karkat pulls his hand down to your stomach, brushing his fingers against the close-set ladderwork of horizontal scars there. "How about these?" His voice is unspeakably gentle, so much so that he doesn't sound like the Karkat you know, and you know he already knows the answer to the question.

"Those—" You have to stop for a second. You've never admitted this, not to anyone, and as far as you know no one knows. "Me. Those are from me, okay?"

Every one of those cuts is for a memory of your Bro. After he died, after you knew he was gone, you sat in the dark and you went through your mind, searching out reasons you shouldn't miss him. For every one you found, you cut another line into your skin.

There were so many reasons.

When you turned the light on, you were kind of surprised by how much blood there was.

You're shaking.

Karkat growls in what sounds like annoyance, and stands up. You watch him, afraid that he's going to leave but somehow unable to call him back.

He steps over to the light switch and flicks it off. Your night vision is awful, and as soon as the room goes dark you are, effectively, blind, but you can hear the mattress creak as he sits down.

"Lie down, Dave." That strange gentleness is still in his voice, and as soon as you do what he says he rolls over next to you, putting one arm across your chest like an anchor.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and you don't even know what you're apologising for.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's okay. Go to sleep."

"I love you." You don't know why you say that. It's true, but you've never said it to anyone before, not that you can remember; you've always been too afraid to say it.

"Yeah. I love you, too, if it means what I think it does." Karkat sighs. "Go the fuck to sleep, Dave."

And you close your eyes, and you fall asleep, with Karkat lying warmly against you.

You are KARKAT VANTAS, and you can see a little better that Dave can in this darkness, which is to say that you can just make out vague shapes. You watch Dave in the dark, feeling the rythm of his breath slow and stabilize, fall into a calm pattern. He's asleep now, and you can stop worrying. For a minute, at least.

You're not going to leave him here. You're not going to go to sleep, either. Ever since this game started, ever since you first loaded that fucking game into your computer, you've been plagued with intense nightmares. Even before this all started, you had trouble sleeping sometimes; now that you're almost afraid of what waits for you in your dreams, you often stay awake until you physically can't keep your eyes open any longer.

And you don't like human-style beds all that much. Recupracoons make so much more sense.

You run your fingers across Dave's scars again, lightly enough that you won't wake him, starting with the worst one—Jack's—and working your way outward in a widening spiral. His scars show up so much worse than yours—human skin must not heal as efficiently as troll skin. Either that, or Dave's been hurt almost to the point of dying, over and over again.

You don't want to believe that, but you could—Dave looks and talks tough, seems cool and polished, but when he lets his guard fall, he's so fractured and fragile that it hurts your fucking heart. He's like no one you know; if he'd been a troll, he would have either been culled by now or been selected to train as an elite soldier. You'd like to believe the latter, but you honestly don't know.

And he's not a troll, anyway. He's human, uniquely beautiful and alien, different from you and from everyone you've always known. He is like a reflection of yourself in a cracked mirror, like the other half of everything you are.

You're barely awake, at this point. The realization alone should be enough to banish sleep, but all you can find the energy to do is mutter, "Fuck it," and squirm a little closer to Dave.

His skin is cooler than yours, you think as you close your eyes. Like a highblood's, or maybe not a highblood...Terezi? Equius? Not Gamzee, if you remember right (which you might not; it's been so long since you've touched Gamzee, and that though brings a pang of guilt), warmer than Gamzee's skin but only by a little...

You're still contemplating blood tempature when you fall asleep.

Sleep is as big a mistake as you knew it would be, fraught with blood like a liquid rainbow, pain that's only a shadow of what pain can be but still hurts like fuck, memories that are undeniably your own (no matter how much you'd like to deny them) and memories that are hellishly familiar and yet bewilderingly not-yours. Part of the time you know that you're dreaming, but you still can't force yourself awake.

When you do finally wake up, you do it with a stifled whimper, your hands closing convulsively on—

Flesh. Dave's shoulders. At some point, you moved even closer to him, draping yourself over him and curling against him, and now you're pretty fucking sure you just drove your fingernails deep enough into his skin to draw blood. And you're still in the grip of the nightmare, unable to breathe deep enough to apologise, unable to do anything other than shake and cling to him.

"Bad dream?" Dave's whisper is barely loud enough to be heard over your own heartbeat. "I know how that is."

You breath as deeply as you can, shedding some measure of the unreasoning fear, growl, "I'm fucking fine," and immediately regret saying it.

Dave is silent for a second. "Fine," he replies, thoughtfully. "I know I'm not fine, and I don't think you are, either. Not really. But that's okay." One of his hands comes up, stroking your hair but staying well clear of your horns—even though he's not troll, he seems to get that there are times when horns can be touched and times that they definitely should not be. "Right?"

You can feel the vibration that'll become a purr starting in your chest, and it makes you feel even more ashamed for snapping at him. "I'm sorry," you mutter.

Dave considers that for another long moment, fingers combing absently through your hair. When he speaks again, it's not in a whisper but in a low voice that has a cadence that you've heard from him before, when he's rapping with someone else. "So fine my line between loving and dying, in the nick of time you arrive and you strive to keep me alive, don't let me take a dive, you know you saved my life, broke me out of my strife, brought me relief and taught me belief with the words that you weave—" He runs out of breath, inhales sharply, and keeps going, although his voice goes a bit hoarser with every word, "Karkat, please don't leave, you're what I need and without you I'd bleed: words, blood, and pain, colder than death's reign, I would go insane, you're all that can tame the storm in my brain—"

Dave's voice cracks, and he stops rapping. You can hear his breathing, though, ragged and uneven, as he fights not to cry.

"Fuck," you say softly. You can feel your own tears on your face. "Oh, fuck, Dave, fucking..." There are no words, nothing you can find to say, so instead you reach out in the dark, finding Dave's face and wiping tears away as gently as you can. You're so bad at this, always have been, and you're afraid that you'll do something to hurt him worse as you try to comfort him.

Without even thinking, you run one hand through his hair, feeling for horns and not finding any. Dave sighs shakily as you mentally curse yourself.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, and his voice breaks again on the second word. "Please—"

"You're fucking kidding me." You lean forward, pressing your lips against his forehead for a brief second. "I'd rather cut off my right hand than leave you alone, Strider, and don't you fucking forget it."

He exhales sharply, a gasp turned inside out, and pulls you down just a little, just enough that your mouth meets his. This kiss is even better than the first time, if that's possible. It lasts what seems like forever and like no time at all, and this time Dave's the one who breaks it.

"Are we—are we still on 'no pailing?'" he asks, and you can hear a wicked smile in his voice. "Because if we are, I might be about to have a problem—"

"Fuck that," you tell him, and find his mouth with your own again.

And he is smiling, and you swear on your soul that you won't ever let him stop.

#Dave #Karkat #Davekat #a fuckin' relic

[pbandjesse]

Today was stressful. But it wasnt a bad day. I am just tired. I didnt sleep great. My back hurt really bad and I even had trouble getting out of bed to get something to help. Like  I couldnt bend my legs or anything. It was all to hurty. But eventually I was able to go put some CBD icy rub on my back and it helped. 

So I slept okay, but not enough. Getting up was really hard. But I would do it eventually. I had a bagel and played pokemon and tried to wake up. I felt very cute. I very much want to wash my hair but I also loved how it tooks right now so Im pretty excited about it. 

James would come home after their morning shift. We played pokemon together for a little before I went and laid on the bed for a half hour before work. I was just feeling really tired. But I had to pull it together. 

I felt very cute but I felt bad on the inside. It is frustrating. And I was just really upset when I got to work and found out that someone quit, someone called out, and there was no sub coming in! So I had 12 kids and I was going to be alone for most of the day. 

This lead to me being a little harsher with the kids then normal. In tone. But I think we still had a good day. I got to read a lot of my book. And The kids were mostly self sufficient after we did the project of the day. Which was clowns! 

Travis had picked the projects this week and so I just jumped into it. And I really liked the talk we had about the types of clowns and what we think of as clowns and I had them tell me different kinds. We talked about geometric vs organic shapes. And what it means to exaggerate something. It was just very cute and I think they all did a really good job. 

Once they were done and cleaned up I basically said, you can do homework or classwork, play a boardgame, or learn coding online. And besides some fussing they were mostly on board and did their thing.  A few of them just made me tired, but it was fine. We handled it. 

The rest of the day was fine. Watching them play boardgames, googiling fun facts with one of the little guys. But I was excited to go home. 

I walked back here and James wasnt home? I was confused. But then they texted me and they had driven to my job to get me. We just missed eachother. So James came home to get me and we headed to the pet store to get supplies. 

We got cat food and fish plants and a new collar for sweetP. We spent to much money but it was all necessaries. And the new plants I hope will grow strong and keep my betta fish happy. 

We came back home, after learning that there are almost 70 starbucks in baltimore.  And once we got everything inside I went to go plant the fish plants. James got to work on dinner. We had caprese open face sandwiches. And they were excellent. 

Now we are just sitting together. And I am ready to go take a shower and get ready for bed. I hope putting on the icy cbd gel before I get in bed will help my back. Well have to see. 

I hope you all have a great night tonight. Take care of yourselves. Goodnight!